


Palace of Dreams and Nightmares

by ThroneofMist



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: A Court of Thorns and Roses - Freeform, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Battle, Book 2: Crown of Midnight, Book 3: Heir of Fire, Book 4: Queen Of Shadows, Crossover, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fighting, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Kingdom of Ash, Love, Mates, Multi, Post-A Court of Wings and Ruin, Prophecy, Throne of Glass, Tower of Dawn, Wings, a court of mist and fury, a court of wings and ruin - Freeform, empire of storms, new generations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-08-08 09:41:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroneofMist/pseuds/ThroneofMist
Summary: Lady Ingrid Westfall of Anielle is the one and only heir to Chaol and Yrene Westfall. Living at Orynth with the Queen and King of Terrasen, she's training fae in the magic of healing. Gentle, bright and kind; the people of Erilea have dubbed Ingrid the 'Heir of the Light'.Aran Archeron is the heir to the Night Court, son of Rhysand and Feyre. He's working with his father and uncles to train the new generation of Illyrian warriors. Hard, brutal and powerful; the fae of Prythian have named Aran the 'Heir of the Darkness'.It's been years since the Court of Terrasen defeated Erawan and Maeve and years since the High Lords and Lady of Prythian destroyed Hybren, but a new evil is stirring and threatening both worlds. It's up to the Heirs of Light and Dark to uncover the looming evil and stop it before it destroys everything their parents fought for years before.When a wyrdgate opens, causing a pathway between both worlds and the two heirs meet, can they stop the darkness from overtaking everything they love, or will the darkness stomp out the lightness?





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome to the world, Ingrid Westfall. Welcome to a better world. To your world."
> 
>  
> 
> "Aran Beddor Archeron, Heir of the Night Court. Welcome to the family."

Chaol

As the midwife hands me my newborn daughter for the first time, tears slide down my face, clinging to my jaw. I smile down at Yrene on the bed as I lightly brush a finger down my daughter's cheek. "Beautiful," I breathe. "She's so beautiful," I say as she opens her eyes and smiles up at me. She could be Yrene's twin. She has the same golden brown skin, the same delicate nose and fragile face. She has both of our golden brown eyes. The only feature she has that we don't is the hundreds of freckles she has dusted around the whole of her face.

"Hello," I smile back as her fingers curl around one of mine. If I ever had any doubts, any at all, about fighting or about defending Erilea, they all vanish instantly. All my doubts or second thoughts about anything vanish as I hold my newborn daughter. This tiny, small, beautiful creature suddenly seems too fragile in my arms. Too breakable. Too frail and delicate. Like anything could happen that could hurt her.

As I hold my daughter in one hand, Yrene reaching up to hold my other hand from the bed, I make a promise. A promise to my daughter. I vow that no one and nothing will ever hurt this...beautiful, fragile thing. I won't let it. Nothing dark and dangerous will ever be allowed in Erilea ever again. No more war, no more hate. Just peace. Instead of being a child of war and hate, like me, Yrene, Dorian and Aelin, our daughter will be a child of peace.

"Welcome to the world..." I pause, looking down at Yrene and cocking my head. She told me two months ago that she had names picked out already. I told her two months ago that whatever she picks would be perfect. 

"Ingrid," Yrene smiles, brushing a finger down my knuckles. "Ingrid Westfall."

Ingrid Westfall. My daughter; Ingrid Westfall. Ingrid; our daughter, our heir, our blood. My heart swells with pride as she squirms slightly in my hold. Our daughter, who shares our name.

"Welcome to the world, Ingrid Westfall." I swear she starts glowing as I say it. Golden light practically shines from her as she smiles and gurgles. "Welcome to a better world. To your world."

 

*

 

Feyre

"Why are you still crying?" I ask Rhys, leaning into him as I look up, meeting his watery eyes. He sniffs dramatically before he tightens his arm around me. "I'm the one that should be crying. I can't feel my legs."

"Because he's so beautiful," he says, pressing a kiss to my head. 

"Because he looks exactly like you," I tell him. Rhys shrugs as he brushes a finger down our son's cheek. Our son wriggles and laughs lightly, reaching up with his little hands. Rhys laughs as he wraps his tiny fingers around one of Rhys' fingers. 

"Maybe," he says, winking at me. "But he has your eyes," he adds. I smile lightly. Our son's only three hours old and he looks exactly like Rhys. He already has tufts of jet black hair, even little tufts on his tiny pointed ears. Same wings, albeit smaller, with the same cobalt swirls decorating the onyx black. The blue seems to magically move and twirl across the darkness. The only thing he seems to get from me is his eyes. My eyes.

We're both silent for a moment as we watch our son gape up at us, his wide smile making my heart skip. We have a child. We have a son. Me and Rhys, we made this magical, tiny thing. This person. This beautiful person is ours. We brought this little boy, with his dark hair and grey eyes and wings, into the world. 

"What's his name?" I ask Rhys, my voice soft, as I cradle our son. When he doesn't answer I tilt my head to look up at him. "I thought you had an idea," I remind him, arching an eyebrow. 

"Do you not have any?" he asks, his violet eyes twinkling like the stars outside. Of course our son was born at midnight. I wouldn't have expected or wanted anything else. I bite my bottom lip as I stroke our son's cheek. 

I've thought about it. Been thinking as soon as I realised what was happening. But none of the names I thought of were right. None had enough meaning or thought. None that I thought of clicked. But I know Rhys has his heart set on one. 

I shake my head. "No. Whatever you pick will be perfect." Rhys grins as I say it. Then he runs his tongue over his teeth.

"Aran Archeron," he says.

"Archeron?" I arch an eyebrow.

"I want him to have your name," Rhys says. "And Aran Archeron has a ring to it, don't you think?" 

"Aran..." I pause, looking down at our son. Then I have a thought. "Aran... Beddor Archeron." As soon as I say it, I second guess myself. But I want to honour Clare. I really want to. 

"Aran Beddor Archeron," Rhys nods, understanding painting his eyes. We both know more than most what its like to feel remorse and regret. "Aran Beddor Archeron, Heir of the Night Court." As soon as the title leaves Rhys' lips, Aran starts to glow. Dark swirls of shadows swirl around him, and his grey eyes seem to shine. Heir of the Night Court indeed. "Welcome to the family," Rhys breathes, giving Aran a light kiss on the forehead.

 

* 

Chaol

I swear under my breath as I watch Ingrid and Eva bounce up and down as Fenrys lets them ride on his back. Their dresses flow and their carefully done hair flies behind them. They skid along the long table, Fenrys' paws padding on the wood. My back straightens as he leaps from the table, Ingrid and Eva squealing in joy. 

I relax when Yrene places a hand on my shoulder. I turn to smile down at her, trying to unclench my jaw. She looks beautiful today. Her brown hair has been braided into a crown, purple flowers plaited into the golden brown strands. She's wearing a gauzy lilac dress, silver jewels embedded in the skirt. I breathe out as she slips her hand into mine, an attempt to settle me. Aelin isn't as subtle.

"Stop worrying, Chaol," she says as she lounges in her chair, Rowan and Silas next to her. "Fenrys won't do anything too dangerous," she adds, grinning as her own gaze slips to their daughters. She smiles as Eva and Ingrid cling to Fenrys' white fur as they circle Aedion's chair. Aedion himself gives a huff of amusement as he picks up Ingrid and Eva off of Fenrys and places them both on his knees. "So powerful," he says, his voice dripping in amazement, as he watches the two one-year-old girls. Eva giggles as a burst of water shoots from her hand. 

Eva Ashryver Whitethorn Galanthynius is destined to be the most powerful fae to ever grace Erilea. She's only one and she's already got the same extent of power as most fae. The Crown Princess of Terrasen is already powerful enough to take on her mother even though she isn't old enough to say her own full name yet. Her brother's also foretold to be a legend. 

I watch as Rowan bounces Silas Ashryver Whitethorn Galanthynius on his knee. Silas is only three months old and he summons winds during his naps. Rowan holds Silas as he jolts him, his son giggling. Silas and Rowan have both been dressed in matching outfits; dark green tunics with decorative silver trimmings, gold crowns atop both of their silver hair. It was probably Aelin's idea.

The Faerie Queen of the West is also wearing green - but her's is a pale, subtle green. Her dress is plain, well as plain as is possible for Aelin, and I'm guessing its to draw attention to the crown on her brow. She's wearing her own crown, not Mab's, which I've realised she only ever wears when she's in her own kingdom. Maybe it's out of respect, or maybe she doesn't want to remind people that she destroyed the Gods.

"Where's Evangeline?" Aelin asks, turning her head to look at Lysandra. The Lady of Caraverre is also dressed in her finery; a light blue dress to match Aedion's tunic. 

"With Darrow," Lysandra says, a whisper of a smirk on her lips. "He's showing her, _her_ lands. He refused to adjourn the tour until next week."

Aelin rolls her eyes as she spins a strand of gold hair around her finger. "Waylan Darrow may be nice now. But he's still a bastard," she sighs, a grin on her face. Lysandra snorts, a very unlady like gesture, as she as she plays with the wedding band on her finger. Rowan laughs and so does Silas, even though he doesn't understand what's happening. 

"At least Evangeline has a valid excuse," Yrene says, her smile genuine. "Where's Elide and Lorcan?" she asks. 

"Lord Lorcan Lochan," Aedion murmurs as he rolls his eyes, lightly flicking Eva and Ingrid's noses. Aelin shoots Aedion a look before she turns back to my wife.

"Elide and Lorcan have stayed in Perranth. She can't travel in her condition," Aelin replies as she takes Eva off of Aedion's knee to fix her plaits. Yrene smiles and even though her smile isn't aimed at me, it still makes my heart squeeze. She's so beautiful. I still can't believe I managed to make her my wife, this magical, beautiful woman. Every time I look at her, every time she speaks, I fall in love with her all over again.

"How many months is she?" Yrene asks.

"Two, I think," Aelin says. "She would be very grateful if you would be able to make the journey in seven months time to help. I know you helped me immensely. Both times," she adds, tucking a strand of Silas' silver hair behind his pointed ear.

I let myself breathe out. I went with Yrene to Orynth for Eva and Silas' births. Fae birthing must be one of the most painful experiences in the world, according to the way Aelin had screamed.

"Of course," Yrene says, "Just send a letter when it's nearly time and I'll come." 

I'm about to try and make an excuse about why I won't be able to attend another fae birthing when the door opens and Manon storms in, Dorian behind her, Seonaith in his arms. "Hello everyone," Dorian grins as he slides into the seat next to me, Seonaith reaching out for me. "Hello Seonaith," I say as Dorian hands him to me to hold. Manon stays in the threshold, watching all of us. I shoot her a small smile. She doesn't smile back, but I don't mind, Manon doesn't smile at anyone. She offers me a nod in acknowledgeable, and I've learned that's the best you can get from Manon Crochan Havilliard. 

She offers everyone a nod in turn as she comes closer to the table, but she doesn't sit. Rather, she stands behind Dorian, her hands tightened around the chair. She seems nervous, with her straightened back, slightly trembling jaw and  She's wearing a slim red dress, with no decoration, jewels or lace like Aelin, Lysandra or Yrene. It's just a plain red dress, her crown of stars shining bright atop her braided white hair. The only type of decoration she's adorning is her iron nails. 

"Thank you all for coming, we appreciate it greatly," Dorian says as he adjusts his gold crown atop his dark hair. It looks like he's been raking his fingers through his hair nonstop. 

"Like we would ever miss this," Aelin says as she grins at Seonaith on my lap. Dorian grins at her in response before I pass his son back to him. There's a flash of white and suddenly Fenrys is standing behind Rowan's chair, already in his dark tunic, looking obnoxiously beautiful. "The Heir to the Witches," Fenrys whistles as he watches Seonaith. We've all gathered for Seonaith's first public appearance. "What a sight."

Manon smirks slightly from behind Dorian but Dorian just furrows his eyebrows. "He is also the Crown Prince of Adarlan."

"But he's half witch," Fenrys says, cocking his head at Seonaith, his face slightly confused.

"I am aware," Dorian says. I look up at Manon, who's completely still, her throat bobbing. "My son is half Crochan, but also half Havilland, therefore he is heir to both kingdoms."

"Not when you have a second child, who's fully mortal," Fenrys objects. Everyone falls silent for a moment.

"But we don't have a..." Dorian trails off before he looks up at Manon, surprise and delight painting his sapphire eyes. Manon however, isn't looking at him, she's glaring at Fenrys, her iron fangs bared. The look she's shooting at him would be enough to cause most mortal men to run, but Fenrys just smirks, even daring to wink at Manon. 

Aedion opens his mouth to say something, no doubt try to diffuse the situation with a joke, when there's a knock on the door. "Come in," Dorian says, taring his gaze away from his wife. A servant pokes her head inside before she announces that it's time. "Shall we?" Aelin asks us all as she stands, her crown shining down at everyone as she grins.

 

*

 

Feyre

I lean against the threshold, watching as Wil and Aran spar in the training ring. I try not to flinch as Wil manages to knock Aran to the ground with his wooden pole, smirking. Aran shoots back up again, his wings spread as he brings his foot up and slams it into Wil's stomach, causing his younger cousin to stumble back. Wil pauses before he realises his mouth is bleeding. He smirks as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're gonna regret that, big cousin," Wil smirks as he swirls the pole around in his hands. Aran doesn't say anything, just cocks his head. 

I sigh with relief as Rhys appears next to me. Maybe he can stop this without hurting the two boy's virility. "Hello, wife," Rhys says, wrapping an arm around my waist. "Hello child," he says to my stomach. I laugh lightly before I turn back to watch the two boys spar. 

"They're so young," Rhys murmurs. "But so powerful." I nod in agreement. The two ten-year-old boys are ridiculously powerful...but Aran...Aran is something else. Otherworldly. More powerful than Cass and Az, more powerful than Nesta and me, maybe even more than Rhys. And it scares me. He doesn't seem...fae.

"He's brutal," I whisper to Rhys, my hand lingering against my stomach. "Savage and ruthless," I pause to turn to Rhys. "He's fighting his own cousin, who he loves, and he's not holding back. At all."

"He's fine, Feyre," Rhys says, his voice soft. "He's just training. That's how young boys train. Cass nearly killed me a couple of times."

I nod, trying not to fidget. Instead I smile as I press a kiss to Rhys' cheek. Then he turns his head so my lips end up on his. I grin into the kiss until I hear someone making throwing up sounds. I pull away from Rhys to arch an eyebrow at Wil who's miming throwing up. 

"Are you asking for laps, Wiliame?" Rhys asks, cocking his head. 

"How many, uncle?" Wil asks, folding his arms. His hazel eyes are shining with amusement as he runs a tongue over his teeth. It's astonishing how much Wil looks like Cassian. Same bright eyes, same square jaw, same messy hair.

"A hundred and fifty," Rhys says, and we all know although he's smiling, he's not joking. Wil makes a scene of pondering it before he crinkles his nose and shakes his head.

"No, I'm good. Thanks for looking out for me though," he nods before he drops the pole onto the sand, murmurs something to Aran that I can't catch, even with my hearing, then leaps into the air, his wings beating as he flies towards the direction of the city.

I'm expecting Aran to climb out of the ring, to come over so we can go home together. I'm not expecting him to drop to the ground and start doing push-ups. He's not even panting. Barely breaking a sweat. "He's going to be unstoppable," I murmur to Rhys as he pulls me closer. 

"I know, he's going to be a legend," Rhys says as we watch our son, his face a cast of fatherly pride. I bite the inside of my cheek. Our son will definitely be a legend. I just hope he doesn't lose himself along the way.

 

 

 

The families and childrens' names are probably gonna get a little confusing so clink on this link to see the family trees I made -  [Family Trees](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/itlieswheniamwithyou)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed it :) I crave feedback y'all


	2. A Dirty Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fine, let me retract that statement. I didn't do anything Aedion said we couldn't."

Ingrid

Eva hisses as I pour more rubbing alcohol onto her arm. She squirms as I grab her arm. "Hold still," I tell her, frowning as I wipe at the wound. It's not deep, and it'll heal pretty quickly. If Eva leaves it alone. Which she never does. I push her long, golden locks out of the way. I love Eva's hair. When we were little, I used to beg Eva to let us switch hair. It reaches her waist, but somehow she manages to keep it perfect. It's never knotted, never messy. Even after training, she just pulls it out of her plait and it flows down her back like strands of gold. 

Eva's hair isn't the only beautiful feature she has. There are her pine-green eyes that she gets from her father. There's her delicate features and slim figure. Her button nose and high cheekbones. Eva's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. I've never been jealous of Eva's beauty. I'm used to being overlooked when I'm with her. I know I'm not unpleasant looking, or actively ugly. But I've accepted the fact that I'm not beautiful. I don't shine or stand out in crowds. I have brown eyes, freckles, long straight dark hair and golden skin. I'm not tall and slim, like Eva, but I'm also not small and petite, like my mother. I'm average height and average looking. And I don't mind. I don't need to be beautiful to be a healer.

"It stings, Ingrid," Eva pouts as she crinkles her nose. 

"I've told you to be more careful during training," I say, carefully dabbing at her cut. 

"But it wasn't my fault," Eva protests, turning her head to look at Seonaith, who's sitting on the wooden table, pretending to read. "It was _his_." He looks up and feigns a surprised look, frowning at me.

"I didn't do anything wrong," Seonaith shrugs, raking his fingers through his mop of white waves. If Eva's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, then Seonaith has to be the most beautiful man. Which makes sense, since his parents are practically paintings. And Seonaith Crochan Havilliard has both of their genes. He's tall, taller than Eva, and almost the same height as her father. He's not muscular, because he rarely spends anytime training. He thinks it's pointless. He'd rather be reading or drinking. He's lean, with long, slender limbs. He has his father's colouring but his mother's hair and eyes. I'm fairly certain Seonaith knows how handsome he is, and uses it to his advantage. He used to have everyone our age in Adarlan, Terrasen and the Western Wastes pining after him. He still does, but now he's started seeing Silas, he doesn't acknowledge his many adoring admirers.

"Yes you did," Eva objects, twisting in her chair to glare at him. 

"Fine, let me retract that statement," he answers, flicking through the book. " _I didn't do anything Aedion said we couldn't_."

"You used your nails!" Eva frowns. "He used his goddamn _iron_ nails, Ingrid," she says, turning back to me. I look up at Seonaith who's smirking, his golden eyes swimming with amusement. I cock my head at him and he just shrugs again. Seonaith shrugs a lot. As if he doesn't need to speak.

"Aedion didn't say I couldn't," he says, turning back to his book. "He said to use whatever we had to our advantage. You could've used your magic," he says to Eva, not bothering to look up from his book. Even though the three of us are best friends, and have been since we were little, Eva and Seonaith are always fighting. Even though Seonaith is technically the youngest, a year younger than me and Eva, he seems like he's the oldest. My heart falls as I think about our age. Eva and Seonaith both have thousands of years to live, and I don't. I'm going to have to leave them. Have to grow old while they stay young and beautiful their whole lives.

"There are _unspoken_ rules in the training ring," she mutters, dropping her arm to her side after I finish. I place the bottle down onto the table next to Seonaith before I swat at him. 

"Get off of my table," I tell him. He arches an eyebrow before he elegantly slides off of the table, lightly landing on the floor. Everything Seonaith does is graceful. He snaps his book shut before he uses his invisible hands to place it on the bookshelf. This is why I love being in Terrasen, because of the casual use of magic. I love being around magic. Love when Eva uses her water to create wolves made of water to entertain the children of Orynth. Love being around when Seonaith can make snowflakes fall around me. Love seeing Silas create lighting spark around his fingertips. 

"Unhygienic," I roll my eyes as I quickly wipe where he was sitting. 

"I am perfectly clean, Lady Westfall," Seonaith says, leaning against the wall as he swings an ankle casually over the other. 

"A _dirty_ cheat is what you are," Eva hisses as she jumps up from her seat. "Now, who wants to go riding?" she asks as she walks to the door. I probably shouldn't agree to go with her, I should probably study and prepare my lecture for tomorrow. And I'm not wearing my leathers, I'm still in my cotton dress. But I love riding. Especially with Eva. Especially in Terrasen. I bite my lip and click my tongue before I nod, and grab my cloak from where it's hanging up. Winter is right around the corner, evident from the frost painting the grass outside.

We pause in the threshold when we realise that Seonaith isn't following us. "You have something better to do, Witch?" Eva asks, folding her arms. To anyone else, the way she said witch might have sounded like an insult, but it's somehow become a fond pet name for Seonaith.

"I'm waiting for Silas," Seonaith says, a hint of a smirk on his lips. But his face also softens as he mentions Silas' name. His eyes lighten slightly, the light gold swirling with affection. "We're visiting Perranth on your mother's behalf."

Eva gives a dramatic sigh as she brushes her long hair behind her shoulders. "I hate that you're corrupting my poor, innocent little brother with your evil witch ways, Prince," Eva says, shaking her head with feigned exasperation. 

"I think your brother rather likes my corrupted ways, Princess," Seonaith says as he wags his eyebrows. I giggle as Eva groans loudly, tipping her head back.

"I don't want to hear it," she shakes her head, crinkling her nose. "I _never_ want to hear it, so please, refrain from telling me anything about this again. Ever." Seonaith just shrugs again, a smirk on his face as he uses his invisible hands to slam the door in our faces. "Have fun, ladies," he calls from inside the room.

"Prick," Eva calls back, rolling her eyes before she spins on her heels. I grin as she links her arm through mine. "Shall we, Lady Westfall?" Eva asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"Let's, Princess Eva," I smile before we start down the corridors we used to run down as children. The royal palace of Orynth is beautiful, just like the rest of Terrasen, with it's white marble floors and grand pillars and indicate carvings; but it's not home. My home is in Adarlan, with the rest of my family. Sometimes its in Anielle; in the big, beautiful wooden and stone keep with fireplaces in every room and grand rugs and paintings. But sometimes it's in the castle in Rifthold, with it's massive rooms and thrones and grand gardens. Since father is the King's Hand and mother has the Torre Cesme, we split our time between Rifthold and Anielle, but I think of them both as my home. But I know that for as long as I live, there will always be a place for me in Terrasen. In Orynth, in Perranth, and in Caraverre. 

We've just entered the grand throne room from the back entrance when someone calls my name. We both turn to see one of the guards that normally stand watch on the battlements running after us. "Lady...Westfall," he pants. "Your father...is here."

I look at Eva, my eyes wide, who's staring at the guard, eyebrows furrowed. "My father?" I ask. "Is he here to see me?"

The guard shakes his head before he continues. "Lord Westfall, and the King and Queen of Adarlan are here to talk to the Queen and King." 

Me and Eva share a look of dread before we turn back to the guard. If Seonaith's parents are here, then whatever's happening must be serious. Deadly serious. "Can you please show us where they are?" 


	3. Pomegranate and Cranberry Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "House of wind. Ten. Tonight, Aran. Don't be late. It's Starfall."

Aran

I stretch my wings out, cringing at the aching in my body. Is it possible for your bones to be tired? I hoped that after twelve years of training I would be used to the tiredness and the aching in my bones. I'm grateful for my training, I'm just not particularly grateful for the ache in the crook of my wings that I get  _after_ training. Not that I'll ever admit that to anyone. I'm Aran Archeron. I can't let my people know I get tired. I need to be the legend people think I am.

I roll back my shoulders as I walk along the dirt path. I'm far enough from the Steppes that the sounds of clashing swords, grunts of pain and angry barks are subdued. I hope it won't take hundreds of years to get used to the aching. My parents never seem tired after training. Neither do my aunts or uncles. Or my cousins. Especially Wil. Wil seems like he could train for a hundred hours straight without even tiring. Maybe that's why he's the General and I'm not.

Sighing, I put the tiredness and aching to the back of my thoughts and winnow back home. I could fly, I probably actually should fly home, to exercise and stretch my wings, but I'm tired and slightly pissed and can't be bothered. I don't really enjoy winnowing, my stomach always threatens to flip over when I do it. I turn into black shadows and drift with the wind through the fields, villages and forests at a incredible speed. I land on the front step before practically falling into the house. 

My eyes keep flittering closed but it doesn't matter. I know my home inside and out. I trudge my way to the kitchen instinctively, eyes half closed and fall into a seat at the table. I normally would go upstairs and bathe but my legs threaten to buckle with every step. I drop my head down on the mahogany top and let myself close my eyes. Just for two seconds. Maybe two minutes. 

Two hours later I wake up. Well, I'm woken up. By Wil and Avine. The latter is sitting in a chair opposite me, picking at her nails with a knife. The former is standing behind me. And he's shouting. Very fucking loudly. "Wake up, big cousin!" he shouts as he ruffles my hair. 

I growl and bat his hand away, my jaw clenched. I squint up at him, the light startling me. His black hair's messy and ruffled, and his hazel eyes are shining. And his stupid fucking grin is plastered on his face. I roll my eyes and push myself up, leaning back in the chair. I'm about to demand that they piss off, or tell me why they're here, when Avine slides out of her chair and struts over to the kitchen area.

"Tea?" she asks us as she takes three cups out of the cupboard. She dangles me, hers and Seonaith's mugs by the handles in her pinky. We all painted them when we were little - basically we just threw Mother's paint at the mugs with our tiny hands.

"Well, if you're making it, I'll take it," Wil smirks, slipping into the seat next to me before he puts his feet up on the cushioned seat across from him. No one says anything as Avine makes our tea. I watch as she flutters around the kitchen, pulling out various utensils. Her long black hair's been scraped back into a plait, her signature fighting style, but she's not in her leathers. She's just wearing plain black trousers and a cropped black, backless top.

Avine Archeron, unlike her mother and her sister, isn't known for her beauty and sense of style. No, Avine Archeron is known for her fighting skills. Not her magic necessarily, because Avie's magic isn't that powerful. Of course, it is, because her father is Azriel. But she doesn't have as much magic as me or Wil. But she's the best out of all three of us at fighting with weapons and her fists.

She's got most of the Illyrians wrapped around her finger. Not because she's beautiful, not that she isn't. Avie just isn't the beautiful that her mother and sister is. Avie's beauty is more subdued, less in your face. The thing that sticks out about her most is the scars that litter her arms and legs from training. But the young warriors follow her around because she would be able to kick all of their asses.

Avine places our cups in front of us before she pulls the seat Wil's feet are on out from under him. His feet fall with a thud against the wooden floor boards as she sits down. 

I watch, silent, as Wil brings the cup up to his chiseled nose and sniffs. " _Pomegranate,_ " he observes. "And..." he sniffs again. "Cranberry. _Nice_ ," he whistles before he takes a sip.

I sigh, leaving my own cup untouched. I love Wil and Avie. Just not when they're in my house, unannounced and acting really weird. "What are you doing here, cousins? Shouldn't you be training or something?"

Avie shrugs. "I don't need to train," she smirks, pocketing her knife. "I'm already better than all of you."

I roll my head to arch an eyebrow at Wil. "How about you go stare at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself how amazing you are? Like you do every morning." 

"Why would I do that, when all the young males and females at camp do it for me, cousin?" he smiles as he takes a sip of his pomegranate and cranberry tea. "Just cause you don't get enough sex doesn't mean you need to try and bring me down about it," he grins as he runs a hand through his dark hair.

"Cauldron, you're narcissistic," Avine rolls her eyes at him.

"No, dearest Avie, I'm confident. There's a difference," he says, still grinning. His hazel eyes are sparkling. Even though he's focusing on us two, his eyes are darting around the house. Wil's always watching, always looking. Always searching for danger. 

I sigh as I drink my tea. I'm still dressed in my fighting leathers which are covered in now dry mud. As I run a hand through my dark hair I also realise that there's mud embedded in my hair.

"We have to beat the House of Wind for ten tonight," Avine says, flicking her long plait over her shoulder so it falls down to her waist. 

"Doesn't the celebrations start at eleven?" I ask Avine, confused.

"Yes, but Father told me to tell you that your Father said that your Mother and Avie's Mother want your help to prepare," Wil answers, scratching the light stubble on his jaw. 

"Great, fine, whatever," I mutter, only listening to parts of what my cousins are saying. "I'll be there," I add when they both raise their eyebrows at me. If only to get them to leave. I glance at the ornate grandfather clock. I only have half an hour until my brother arrives home, and then everyone else appears, and I don't get any peace until morning. So the faster I get Avie and Will out of my damn house, the more time I have to sit in calming silence.

When I turn back, Wil rolls his eyes. "House of wind. Ten. Tonight, Aran. Don't be late. It's Starfall."

And with that my cousin chugs his tea and slams it onto the table, winking at me. Avine gracefully slides off of her chair, and smiles before Wil grabs her hand and winnows them both out. I stay in my seat, quietly sipping my tea. Wil is extremely vexing, but he's also kind and gracious. Avie is pretty arrogant, but she's welcoming and thoughtful. And they're my favourite cousins. Maybe I'm not really meant to say that but it's true.

They're really the only cousins I have near my age. I'm twenty, Wil's nineteen and Avie's eighteen. All my other cousins are younger. There's Wil's brothers; Dwyatt, who's fifteen, and Elio, who's seven. Then there's Avie's siblings, Rosamunda, who's twelve, and little Jasper, who's only four. Also, me, Wil and Avie are the only one's out of the lot of us who look like our fathers. Dwyatt, Elio, Rosamunda and Jasper all have brown hair and brown or blue eyes. Even my own siblings, Nox and Lilith don't look like Father. Lilith looks like Aunt Morrigan and Nox looks exactly like Mother.

As if he can hear my thoughts, Nox bursts through the door. "Hello?" he calls as he stands in the hall. I silently swear as I push myself up out of the chair and walk to the door, leaning against the threshold. The first thing I notice is that my younger brother is covered head to toe in wet mud. 

"Mother's going to skin you," I say, folding my arms as I sneer at his rancid leathers. 

"What? Why?" Nox asks, looking down at himself. "It's only a little dirt. I can clean it." I snort as I shake my head. Nox has never clean anything in his life. I don't know if he has the capability.

"Okay, sure," I say before I start to walk towards the stairs. "Take your goddamn shoes off, Nox," I tell him as I continue up the stairs, not bothering to look behind me. I know he still has them on. I also now he throws up a vulgar gesture in my direction as I reach the first landing. I can still hear him muttering as I reach my bedroom. Nox may be my little brother, but I don't mind admitting that he's a royal pain. Especially now he's found his mate. It's like his irrational, stupid behaviour has escalated.

I didn't think it was possible.


	4. Iron Nails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe there are still wars to be fought."

Eva

It's not that I hate formal, political meetings. Its just that I very strongly dislike them.  I hate the etiquette and the formality and the fact that I must act like the Crown Princess people think I am. Sometimes, I think that I'm not meant to be Queen of Terrasen. Sometimes, when I'm wearing my crown, I feel like glass. Like I could fall and crash into a thousand different pieces and I might be able to gather up all the pieces I like and drown all the pieces I don't.

Occasionally, I'll be sitting in my throne next to Mother, and I'll look over at Silas on Father's left and wonder what life would be like if he had been born first. I think it would be better. Silas could be King and I'd be able to live my life exactly the same, just without all of the pressure. I don't even know where the pressure comes from - its not like my parents demand anything. Nothing at all. Maybe I just want to be able to reach the unspoken standards that everyone seems to have for me. The daughter of Aelin and Rowan Ashryver Whitethorn Galanthynius. But they also have Silas, Aidan and Saise, and another royal fae on the way.

I think Silas would be a better king than I would be queen. Silas understands politics more. He's reserved and constrained to my wild and clamorous. Silas was born regal. Born to be a king. He would be able to make prosperous allegiances. Would be able to rule fairly, and understand everyone's way of life. Silas is good at calling the shots. Even though he rarely gets the chance to. He's not as powerful as me, but a good ruler doesn't need brute force or magic anymore. There's no more wars. No more need for violence.

But I could never ask Silas to be king in my place. He'd do it. He'd do it for me - I have no doubt. But he'd have to leave Seonaith. The King of Terrasen couldn't marry the King of the Witches. And I'd never make Silas do that. We all know that Seonaith and Silas are on borrowed time anyway. Even though Silas may not have any obligations to produce offspring; Seonaith does. None would dare order him to. Not his mother, or his father. If anyone told Seonaith he had to leave Silas - he'd slice their guts out. But deep down, I think he knows he has to. For his Kingdom. He'll leave it as late as he can. Seonaith never has been one to face something head on. But ultimately, leaving it might hurt them both more. 

I push my brother and Seonaith out of my head as the guard stops us. "They're up there," he says, gesturing up the staircase in front of us. I turn to him and he bows, his silver helm almost slipping of his head.

"Thank you for showing us," I say before I dismiss him. When I turn back to Ingrid, she's frowning, a crease in her forehead. "What's wrong?" I ask her as I slip my hand into hers and squeeze. She turns to face me and tries to smile, but it turns out more of a grimace. "What if something's wrong?" she asks, nervously biting her bottom lip. "What if something terrible has happened?" 

I shake my head, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. "Nothing's wrong," I tell her. "Trust me, Ingrid. Nothing terribly horrible has happened for years." She nods, but I can tell she doesn't believe me. Her pretty brown eyes swim with fear and doubt. I know Ingrid doesn't think she's pretty, but she really is. She's more beautiful than me, because unlike me, and unlike most people, Ingrid has a genuine soul. Ingrid has meaning to her life, knows what she wants to do. And she wants to heal people. She want to use her magic for good. Because she's a good person.

 

*

 

As soon as me and Ingrid walk into the boardroom, she drops my hand and runs towards her father. "Father!" she exclaims as she wraps her arms around his neck as Lord Chaol twirls her around. They start talking in hushed voices, but I can't hear because when Ingrid drops my hand, there's another hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. 

"Silas," I smile as my brother looks down at me. I might be older, but he's got four inches on me. He doesn't smile back. "What's wrong?" I ask, my voice shaking. "I thought you and Seonaith were going to Perranth." Silas pushes his tongue into his cheek before he turns his head slightly. I follow his eyeline to see Seonaith leaning against the back wall, playing with his knife. He's pretending to be not paying attention, but I catch as his golden eyes drift up to us then instantly drop back down. He's standing near his mother, who's watching Dorian, Chaol and Ingrid talk, but not near enough to try and talk to her. Seonaith's never really connected with his parents. He rarely talks about it though, so I don't know why he's so distant.

"We were," Silas nods, running his fingers through his silver hair. "But something's happened," he says, dropping his voice to a whisper. "My magic, it's... stopped," he breathes, his voice wavering. He holds his hands out and I swear under my breath when only a minuscule spark of lightning dimly shines in his palm. "It's happened to most of the fae's with lesser magic or fae with a small amount of power."

"Gods," I hiss, instantly reaching to burrow down into my magic. It's still there. All of its still here. I would sigh with relief if Silas wasn't in front of me, looking so defeated. 

"I take it you still have yours," Silas says, and there's not a hint of jealousy. There never has been. I just nod, stroking his shoulder before the door bursts open. Mother storms in, Father at her heels. She acknowledges Chaol, Dorian and Manon with a nod, but she's instantly beside me and Silas, her hands on Silas' shoulder and my cheek. "Are you alright?" she asks, worry painted on her face. Me and Silas both nod and Mother breathes out, closing her eyes before she throws us a restrained smile.

"Your magic?" Father asks, as he comes up behind Mother, his hand on the hilt of his sword. He looks to Silas, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "Has your's gone, Silas?" he asks. I feel a pang of guilt that Father doesn't ask me. But I know Silas won't mind. He accepted a long time ago that I was the stronger fae. 

My brother nods, awkwardly sliding his hands into his pockets, as if he's ashamed. I link my arm through his and shoot him a soft smile. His lips twinge up in response before he shrugs at Father. "Not all of it. I have some left over. Not a lot though," he adds, his throat bobbing. 

"Show us," Mother says quietly. Silas hesitates for a moment before he nods. He doesn't pull his hands from his pockets, and its only when a light breeze rustles my hair that I realise that he's using his wind magic. Silas got all of his magic from our Whitethorn blood. His form is a hawk, like Father's, and he has all the same abilities as Father, wind, ice and lighting, albeit to a smaller extent. Whereas I get all my magic from our Ashryver side. I only have my waves, unlike Silas, who has three forms of magic. And my other form is a doe, but I have no idea where that stems from.

"Are _you_ alright?" I ask our parents both instead of answering, they just give each other one of their looks before Mother shakes her head. Father goes to place a hand on her shoulder but she shrugs him off before she turns to face everyone else. I swear, the air in the room vanishes as Mother strides up to the large, marble table in the middle of the room, and slams her fists on it. "What the hell has happened to my magic?" she asks, her question aimed at everyone even though she's facing Dorian. He just shrugs before he says, "It's happened to me aswell. To most people with lesser magic in Adarlan. And Terrasen it would seem." Mother and Dorian lock eyes for a moment. The King breaks first, sliding into the chair in front of him as he leans on his hands.  

"I wish we wouldn't call it lesser magic," Ingrid says as everyone follows Dorian's lead and silently sits in their own chairs. There are six empty ones left. Lysandra, Aedion, Fenrys, Lorcan, Elide and Evangeline's chairs. "Just because there's not as much doesn't mean its not as worthy as anyone else." After she says it, my gaze flitters to Ingrid's father, who's smiling down at her, face a cast of pride. 

"It doesn't matter what we're calling it," Seonaith cuts in. He's frowning and his jaw is clenched. "It's gone." I notice as his golden eyes linger on Silas who's sitting next to him. Silas shoots him a faint smile, but even I can tell its strained. Seonaith doesn't smile back, just keeps watching him, a hint of pity on his face.

"Not all of it," I say, looking at Mother. Her eyes are trained on the middle of the table and her jaw is clenched. But I know her magic isn't gone. If it was I don't think she'd be here. "Not all of its gone," I say, louder, and Mother's eyes snap up to meet mine. She nods in confirmation before she summons a small flame to her palm. She blinks down at it, before her throat bobs and the flame vanishes. She tightens her hand into a fist and hides it under the table. Mother's hasn't gone just yet, but its clearly been subdued.

"But is it merely gone?" she asks, leaning back in the chair. She's not wearing her crown, and her long, golden hair has been pulled back into a long braid that falls down to almost her waist. "Or was it stolen?"

"But why would someone steal magic?" Manon asks, brows furrowed. "And why only lesser magic?" Ingrid crinkles her nose but Manon ignores her and continues on. "It doesn't make sense."

" _Who_ would steal magic?" Father asks, scratching at the beard on his jaw. "We have no enemies any more. No wars are being fought."  

"Maybe it's not an old enemy." Seonaith breaks the still air after no one says anything for a while. "Maybe there are still wars to be fought." 

Mother and Dorian both shoot him a look that would cause anyone else, including me, to drop their knees and beg forgiveness, but Seonaith just stares back at them, eyes slightly narrowed. 

Mother breaks first and looks at Father as she stands up, hands spread out on the table. "We need someone to go get Aedion and Lysandra," she says, her voice strong even though her eyes are conveying deep concern.

"They're in Caraverre?" Father asks as he stands up, slipping his hand into Mother's. She looks down, tearing her gaze away from him before she nods slightly, as if she's ashamed to ask him to go. But before Father can say anything, Silas stands from his seat and rolls back his shoulders. "I'll go," he says as he starts towards the door. 

"But you can't change form," I protest, standing up and grabbing his wrist as he walks past. He slowly turns and narrows his eyes at me. "How are you going to get to Caraverre?" 

"Let go of me, Eva," he says quietly, but not kindly. Silas' never spoken to me like that. Me and Silas don't speak to each other like that. Ever.

I swallow and look him dead in the eye. His Ashryver eyes are glaring at me, anger painted in them. But the anger isn't necessarily aimed at me. I don't know why he's angry. And his tone and completely uncharacteristic stubbornness is scaring me. I let go and shrug before I take a step back, dropping his wrist.

Silas' throat bobs and he nods at Mother and Father before he walks out the door slamming behind him. 

A mere second passes before Seonaith stands up, chair legs scraping on the stone floor. He doesn't say anything to anyone, just starts making his way towards the door. His hands are casually slid in his trouser pockets, but because I've known Seonaith his whole life, I notice the muscle in his jaw twitching as he follows my brother. 

"Where are you going?" Dorian's voice causes Seonaith to hesitate slightly - or maybe it's the use of the word son. He doesn't turn around completely, but he turns his head enough that you can see his lip curl.

"Caraverre," Seonaith says as if he's merely stated that he's going to bed. He slips his right hand out of his pocket to open the door but as his fingers curl around the knob, Dorian speaks again.

"I don't think so." Dorian shakes his head as he folds his arm. Seonaith turns and fold his own arms, narrowing his eyes. I sigh when his iron nails snap out. He's furious. But Dorian doesn't pick up on his son's signals. Instead he stands up, spreads his hands out on the table and continues speaking. "It's a dangerous time. People have lost their magic. So you're not going out there alone. You're our heir, Seonaith, which means you might as well have a damn target on your back!"

"Who's going to stop me Father?" What are you going to do if I leave? Throw me in the fucking dungeons? Are you going to order me to stay? Order me as my King?" Dorian doesn't reply, but his jaw clenches. "Didn't think so," Seonaith says, a small smirk on his lips. Beside me, my parents are still, Mother and Carol having some sort of silent conversation from across the table. Father pushes his tongue into his cheek, watching the whole argument play out in silence. He looks like he wants to intervene, but a glance from Mother and Chaol wipes the look from his face.

When Seonaith turns, he meet my eyes and frown slightly. I know he doesn't care about arguing with his parents. I know he doesn't even really care about arguing with me and Ingrid. He doesn't care about training or about being able to fight. He doesn't care about Adarlan or the Wastes. Doesn't care about his crown. He doesn't even really care about his sister. It sounds dark, but it's true. I don't know whether it's because he won't let himself care to try and save himself from as much pain as possible, or if he really couldn't care less about anything. Well anything apart from Silas.

The only thing Seonaith Havilliard cares about is my brother.

He tears his gaze away from me and opens the door. But someone saying his name stops him in his tracks. But it's not his father's voice this time. The air in the room vanishes as Queen Manon Crochan Havilliard stands up, back straight and head held high as she stares at her son with cold indifference. Even Seonaith turns to look at her.

Unlike Mother, who wears the fanciest, most extravagant clothes she can find, Manon only ever wears plain clothes. She's wearing tight fitting black leathers and a massive red cloak, which only amplifies her deathly realness. "Sit down," she says to her son. Seonaith doesn't move, his hand tightened around the doorknob. "Did I stutter?" she asks, eyes narrowed as her own iron nails snap out - twin to Seonaith's. "Sit. _Down_." Seonaith snarls, but Manon just bares her teeth and I shudder when I see a glimpse of her iron teeth. "Seonaith. Dorian. Havilliard. Sit. Down. _Now_."

Seonaith keeps standing for a moment, breathing deep and anger painting his handsome face before he caves and slips into the chair furthest away from his parents. 

 

*

The adults talk for another hour, but I don't listen. I just watch Seonaith as his throat bobs and he looks down. When it seems that our parents have finished talking, Mother looks down at me and cocks her head - a silent question. I nod and stay in my seat as she addresses everyone else. "Well, all this horrible talk has me famished. How about some food?" Chaol smiles gratefully for the invitation and the escape from the awkward room before he follows Father out of the room. "Dorian, Witch, let's go eat." Mother doesn't necessarily ask Dorian and Manon, but they nod anyway and make to follow her.

Dorian hesitates behind Seonaith's chair, but when his son doesn't acknowledge him, he sighs and follows his wife and Mother out of the room. When the door shuts behind him, Seonaith looks up for the first time in an hour. The rage in his face has subdued, and its mostly been replaced with grief. "Are you alright, Seonaith?" Ingrid asks, trying a small smile.

"I'm going," Seonaith says, leaning back in his chair. He's too goddamn stubborn for his own fucking good sometimes. I sigh and shake my head, leaning over to place my hand on his. Thankfully, his nails have gone. "Silas is probably halfway there, already, Seonaith. There's no point."

"He has no magic, Eva," Seonaith hisses, snatching his hand back. "He's fucked if this really is the doing of some evil thing."

"Silas isn't an idiot," I frown, my brows furrowing. "He can handle himself just fine."

" _I know that_ ," Seonaith snipes back, narrowing his eyes and crinkling his nose. "I'd just feel a lot better if I was with him." He doesn't give either of us time to reply because he's already out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I laugh when Ingrid sighs and says, "I just wanted to go riding."


	5. White Roses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've got to be shitting me."

Wil

I smirk at myself in the mirror as I pull at my black shirt. I do tidy up pretty nicely, if I do say so myself. I try and tug at my hair because it won't stop sticking up. I used to have long hair, like Father, but I cut it a couple months ago - now I just look like a better looking Aran. I told everyone it was because it makes it easier to fight, but really it was because I was getting tired of being compared to Father. Constantly being pitted against him. 'Your father was amazing at dagger throwing,' my generals used to tell me. 'You. Not so much.'

But now I'm the general of the Illyrians. Me and Avie. We rose above it all. Kept our heads down and fought. Fought our way up the rankings. Fought for our titles. It doesn't matter who our parents are. Doesn't matter what are names are. We won this by ourselves, for ourselves. With brute force, determination and power. 

I realise I'm scowling in the mirror, so I make myself smile as my eyes slide to Avie. She's watching me in the mirror from her spot on my bed. "I still got it," I tell her. She rolls her eyes and sighs before she pushes herself up off of the bed and walks over to me. She wraps her arms her arms around me and leans her chin on my shoulder. "You sure do, cousin," she smiles before she shuts her eyes for a second. I tighten the metal bracelet on my wrist - twin to the ones that Avie and Aran both have. We got them last year. On the same day, me and Avie were both promoted to generals, the only people above us our fathers, and that night Aran was formally declared heir to the Night Court. We were meant to be at a ball but we managed to somehow sneak out. As we walked through the streets of Velaris, Avie spotted three metal bands in the window of the smallest shop. I think we decided that it symbolises our never-ending bond and the strength of us as a whole, but to be honest, they just look really fucking nice.

As I'm fastening it, my eyes wander down to Avie's wrists. Her band's also on, tightened tight around her small tanned, wrist. Her sleeves are white lace and they end at her elbows. Her dress is nice, but that's not really what I'm looking at. I'm worrying about her exposed back, arms and legs. "You can see your tattoos," I tell her, softly, and her eyes snap open. I'm met with dark hazel eyes as she watches me in the mirror. 

"I know," she murmurs, dropping one of her arms from around me to trace the swirling black ink on her wrist. She looks back up at me before she slowly turns. She pulls her long black hair from her back and over her shoulder, aswell as folding her wings in to show me - even though we both have the ability too hide our wings, like I'm doing right now, Avie never does. Her whole back is exposed, as is the black ink sketched permanently against her lower back - some are curtesy of me. "It's fine," she says softly, as she twirls as strand of hair around her finger. 

"But your parents," I say, biting my lip. "They don't know, Avie. Your mother'll flay you if she sees it." Avie shakes her head as she wraps her arms around herself.

"No, she won't," she rolls her eyes. "She'll just be a bit disappointed, maybe. She just doesn't like tattoos. You know she doesn't like that I'm a general. It scares her. She doesn't like being reminded of it. And these are a pretty big reminder." She pushes her tongue before she looks up at me. Her cast of worry is replaced with stubbornness. "But I don't care. It's my decision. I think my father knows anyway," she shrugs. I don't know who she's trying to persuade more; me or herself. "Yeah, of course. Your decision," I nod before I look down at my own tattoos. I have more than Avine, but her's are personal. Mine are more reminders. I have a rune on my neck from the old times, that tells the story of a young soldier who didn't give up even in the face of death.

But Avie's...they're really meaningful. 

"Shall we go, dearest cuz?" I ask her, plastering a grin on my face as I offer her an arm. I just want her to smile. I hate seeing Avie without a smile. Thankfully, when she wraps her arm around mine and tips her head up, there's a smile on her lips, albeit a faint one. "Let's," she nods before I winnow us to the house of Wind.

*

We're the last to arrive. Well, bar Aran, but he's late for everything.

We winnow right in the middle of the room, and Aunt Elain yelps as she jumps out of the room. " _Wiliame,"_ she sighs, pinching her nose.

"Hello, Aunt Elain. You look very beautiful tonight." She smiles at that before she looks to my side. 

"Where has Avine gone?" she asks, tilting her head. I crinkle my nose as I look around and spot Avie next to Aunt Feyre, helping string up little balls of light. 

"She's helping Aunt Feyre, I think. However, do not fret Auntie. _I_ am here to help you," I grin as I take the box from her arms. "What needs doing?" 

"Well, the guests will start arriving in an hour," she says as she bends down to pick up another box. "So we have a lot still to do. I was thinking of putting these," she says as she pulls out a white rose from the box, "around the tables. What do you think, Wiliame?" Aunt Elain is the only family member who calls me Wiliame (unless it's Avie or Aran doing it to piss me off) and she's the only one who calls Avie, Avine. 

"I think that's positively fantastic," I say before she points out where to place the flowers, but I'm not really listening. I look around as she talks about flower arrangements. The hall looks almost done but people are still decorating. Maids are walking around as they set up plates on tables and sweep the main floor that people dance on. Mother and Father are at the top of the stairs setting up. Well, it looks like Mother is blatantly ignoring Father as he smirks at her hanging up white strings of light. I crinkle my nose as I turn just in time to avoid witnessing them kiss. Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys and Uncle Az seem to be helping the band set up on the stage. Avie's hovering near them, talking to a violinist.

"Are you listening, Wiliame?" Aunt Elain's voice brings me back. 

"Yep," I grin, bouncing the box of white roses about. "Got it. Flowers. Go in vases. Repeat." She looks like she wants to object but she ends up smiling and lightly sharing her head as she walks away, pink skirts flowing.

As I walk around the massive hall, setting up the flowers, Avie ends up walking beside me, arms folded, scowl painted on her face. "Where's Aran?" she asks. 

"No clue, cousin," I shrug as I set down a white rose. "You wanna maybe help me?" I ask, arching an eyebrow. She shakes her head and snorts as she silently slips into a chair, holding her head in her hands. I sigh and sit in the chair opposite her. Even though its Starfall, and our whole family, our whole court, are gathering tonight, she looks pretty sad. I push my tongue into her cheek as I watch her pick at her collar. I pull a white rose out from the box, reach over the table and push it behind her ear. Avie snorts but she smiles anyway. "You're an idiot," she grins but she's grinning so I don't mind.

She opens her mouth to say something, when a clap causes us to turn our heads. Aunt Feyre is standing on the stage in front of the band and she's beckoning us over. "We're being summoned," I tell Avie who just sighs. When we reach everyone else, Avie stays as far away from her parents as possible. "Welcome family," Feyre smiles as she claps her hands. "Than you for helping out, everyone will be arriving soon so..." she trails off as she looks around us. "Where's Aran?" she asks as her eyes lock on me and Avie.

"I told him to come!" I protest, throwing hands up in defence. Feyre frowns and looks like she's going to say something else but suddenly the doors open up, the lights darken and the Night Court files in as the band starts playing.

*

 

The festivities have been going on for about half an hour when Aran appears at the top of the stairs. I'm dancing with Arein, the Winter Court's heir, and Avie's dancing with her mate, Everan. We've been friends with them for a couple of years now. We all met when me, Aran and Avie went to the Winter Court to discuss the annual meeting of the High Lords. Arein and Avie clicked immediately, and were inseparable the whole time we were there. We met Everan there too, because he's the general of their army, but when we method, Arein and Everan weren't mated. Everan was hopelessly in love with her, but kept his distance because Arein was seeing a noble male and he thought he wasn't good enough for her. When Arein discovered that the male was cheating on her, Everan was there, as a friend. And then it clicked for her too.

I smile down at Arein as I spin her around. Her platinum hair falls the her collarbone, but as we dance it bounces and flies. She's wearing a completely white dress which makes her look like a fallen snowflake. I don't realise for a moment that the music's fallen until I realise that we're the only two left dancing. The door slams shut and as soon as Aran steps in a silence falls over everyone. I look up and when I see him standing there smirking, I swear under my breath. Because he's not alone.

He's standing next to Irin Muara.

"You've got to be _shitting me_ ," Arein says as she drops my hand and goes to move. I grab her wrist and lightly out her back. If I don't, then I know she'll storm up those stairs and slap Aran in front of his whole court. "How could he do this?" Avie asks from beside me, her voice breaking. Everan's instantly at his mate's side. He narrows his eyes at me and I roll my eyes, but I let go of Arein's wrist anyway. I don't like messing with mates' feelings and all that shit. Not worth it. 

"Why the fuck is he with Maura?" Arein hisses, anger dripping from her voice.

Irin Maura is from the Court of Nightmares. No one really knows where she came from, she just kind of appeared, and then managed to work her way up to Keir's side. Everyone knows who she is now. Mainly because she's a bitch. I growl as I watch her slip her hand into Aran's. Irin is pretty -  there's no doubt about that - but she isn't beautiful. She doesn't look like a goddess like my aunts or cousins. Doesn't resemble a flower like Arein. She's pretty, with massive golden-red curls and pale skin and bright red lips. But she's cold. And she's dark. And she's evil. Arein especially hates her, because once -before they had mated - Irin tried to sleep with Everan. And it seems like Irin Maura doesn't understand what no means. 

But that's not even the reason why everyone's silent right now. Everyone's silent because Aran is walking down the stairs, hand in hand with the woman who's rumoured to be the spawn of Amarantha and the King of Hybren. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gimme feedback y'all I crave opinions


	6. The Male, the Ghost-Leopard and the Two Cougars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You have an even bigger temper than your mother."

Ingrid

It's been three days.

Seonaith hasn't moved from the window seat in Silas' room. He leans against the wall, knees pulled to his chest as he painfully stares out the window. Sometimes he'll tap on the glass, and a small frown will slip onto his lips. But he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. I don't think he's even eaten anything. 

Me, Eva, Aidan and Saise are sitting on Silas' massive bed. Aidan's pleating my hair but it feels more like tugging and pulling. Eva's reading to us all but I think the only one that's listening to her is Saise. When Aelin told her that Silas was going away for a day, she burst into tears, and so far hasn't left Eva's side. Saise is sitting in her older sister's lap as she traces her little hands over the fading words. 

I hiss in pain as Aidan pulls pretty hard on a strand of hair. "Shit, sorry," he says before he tries to start again. I'm tempted to ask him to stop, but if it takes his mind off of his brother and the loss of his magic then I can take it. Aidan and Saise's magic has both completely disappeared and they're eating like they've lost an arm. It's pretty cold in here, since Seonaith is insistent on keeping the window open, and Aidan keeps going to make a flame. But it won't come. And every time he forgets his magic's gone then tries to use it, and it doesn't work, he frowns and his eyes water.

"Aidan, don't say words like that," Eva says as he slides off of the bed. He folds his arms and scowls - looking very much like a thirteen year old boy.

"You're not in charge of me, Eva," he hisses, sticking his tongue out. "I'm only five years younger that you."

"So," she scowls. "That doesn't mean you can swear."

"You and Seonaith swear!" he protests, pointing a finger at the reticent witch on the window. Seonaith doesn't look up. Doesn't even acknowledge that Aidan said his name. 

"Ingrid doesn't," Eva says, gesturing to me. "Be like Ingrid."

"Ingrid's boring," he shrugs before he storms out of the room, the heavy door slamming behind him. Tears start to fall down Saise's cheeks at the loud bang. 

"I'm sorry," Eva apologises to me as she calms Saise down, patting her silver hair. "He doesn't mean it," she says as she pushes the large book off of her lap and to the side. I don't really mind if Aidan meant it or not. It's true. I am boring. I can't bend flames like him. Can't summon wind or lightning like Silas. Can't control whole oceans like Eva. I don't have invisible hands or iron nails. I don't train like the rest of them - don't know how to wild a sword or kill someone. I can use a bow (albeit not very well), from Father teaching me how to hunt years ago. 

But I _can_ heal people. I can save people. I don't need to be interesting or beautiful or fae to do that. I just need my hands and my knowledge.

"I think he's just stressed about Silas," Eva says, tucking a strand of blonde locks behind her pointed ear. She goes to say something else, but Seonaith's growl shuts her up. At first I think it's because of Eva mentioning Silas' name, but then I hear the trumpets. Seonaith is on his feet and then the next second he's out the door. "What's happening?" I ask Eva as we race to the window

"The Lady and Lord of Caraverre are here," she breathes as we watch a male on a horse ride into the castle, a ghost-leopard running behind him. "Looks like Evelyn and Rhydian have also decided to drop in for a visit," she adds as two cougars canter after Aedion and Lysandra. They're sniping at each other as they hiss and yelp. Eva rolls her eyes before she steps away from the window. "We should probably go downstairs," she smiles. I nod and go to follow her before I take a second look out of the window. I wait for a moment, my heart expectantly waiting. but he doesn't follow the cougars. Silas hasn't come home.

*

 

"Where is he?" 

We get downstairs just in time to pull Seonaith away from Lysandra and Aedion. "They're barely in the door, Seonaith," Eva hisses as she pushes him behind us. He growls and locks his jaw but doesn't make any moves to run at them. Aedion watches Seonaith for a second before he looks at his wife, arching his eyebrow as he smirks down at her slightly. Lysandra's still in her leopard form, and Evelyn and Rhydian are slinking in the shadows in their cougar form. Aedion turns to speak to us when Aelin and Dorian appear, both holding clothes. "Aedion. Lysandra," Aelin smiles,but it's a strained smile. Her golden blue eyes dart around, obviously scanning for her son.

"He went to Perranth," Aedion explains as Aelin looks back at him, her throat bobbing. "To bring Lorcan and Elide." Aelin nods, but she doesn't say anything before she gestures for Lysandra, Evelyn and Rhydian to follow her, lifting up the clothes. 

"He-he-went to-are you shitting me- _Perrnath_?" Seonaith stutters behind us, pinching the bride of my nose. "Gods. I'm going to fucking kill him. Goddamned idiot!" he hisses as he leans against the wall, scowling. I notice that Dorian's watching his son, but Seonaith is so caught up he doesn't even realise. 

"You have an even bigger temper than your mother," Aedion says, a small smirk on his face. "Didn't think it was possible," he adds with a click of the tongue. Seonaith snorts humourlessly as his narrowed eyes slide to Aedion.

"Stay out of my way," he hisses as he pushes past Aedion and starts to walk up the stairs, hand tightened around the railing. I sigh sadly when I realise where he's going. He's going back to that window. And he won't leave until Silas comes back.

"Sorry," Dorian apologises as soon as his son's gone. "He's uh..." Dorian trails off, obviously not even knowing himself why his son's like this.

"In love," Aedion shrugs, his tone serious. I smile as Eva coughs, shaking her head. I still don't think that she's wrapped her head around her brother liking one of her best friends. "I've been there," Aedion smiles as his wife and children return with Aelin, all three of them dressed in finery. I look down at my own clothes and feel a little bit underdressed. Me and Eva are in our leathers - just in case anything happened. 

"Hello Ingrid, cousin," Rhydian says, a grin on his handsome face as he nods at me and Eva. "It's really," he starts.

"Good to see you again," Evelyn finishes, tilting her head slightly. "We've really,"

"Missed you two," Rhydian grins. Eva shudders and crinkles her nose. The two twins grin at her, their Ashryver eyes glistening. Even though they're two years younger than me, they're both taller than me. Evelyn and Rhydian Ashryver are the some of the most powerful shape shifters to ever exist. People say that their powers was split in half, and if only one of them had been born, the power would've been so immense it might have destroyed them. You would never be able to tell how powerful they are from looking anthem. They don't radiate power like Seonaith or Eva. They just look like normal kids. They don't even have pointed ears due to the fact they're only demi-fae. 

"I hate when you do that," Eva shakes her head as we all follow Aelin, Lysandra and Aedion to the grand hall. The twins just share a mischievous grin before they link arms and start to follow us, always staying a step behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it was a short one y'all but I've not had a lot of time to write recently


	7. Grey Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What if he doesn't come back?"

Seonaith

Cymeit and Abraxos are on the roof of the palace, their wings folded tight as the wind smashes against them. As I try and pull myself up onto the tiled roof, the goblet of wine sloshing in my hand, Abraxos pulls me up onto the roof by biting onto my jacket. "Hello, Abraxos," I sigh as he drops me. The wind slams against me, my cape dancing around my legs. Cymeit slowly pads over to me and shelters me with his light grey wings.

Unlike Abraxos, who's one of the smallest wyvern's I've ever seen, my wyvern is colossal. Cymeit has a light grey hide, almost white, and massive wings. Those wings are currently protecting me from the icy wind that surrounding us. I sit down on the cold tiles, folding my legs. I snarl as I lean my head against Cymeit. He doesn't purr, because he's not an affectionate wyvern, but he also doesn't push my head away, which he would normally do. I cause I look pretty depressed.

I drown the rest of the wine before I throw the goblet from the roof and watch as it falls down into the fog. "When's he going to come home?" I breathe into the wind, not really speaking to anyone. I exhale deeply as Abraxos drops his head onto my lap. "What if he's hurt?" I whisper to the wyverns as I look back out into the fog. I push my tongue into my cheek as I look out towards the rest of Terrasen. Towards Perrnath. "What if he doesn't come back?" I ask, my voice wavering. 

I've known Silas since he was born. I'm only a couple of moths older than him, but we never really met until last year. We saw each other at a ball when we were fifteen but then I didn't see him for a year. I mostly stayed in Rifthold and when the Whitethorns came to see us, Silas never came with them. It was only when I finally came to Terrasen did I realise he was hopelessly in love with me. And then I realised I'm in love with him. We haven't said it yet. But when he comes home I will. I'll fucking shout it from the goddamn rooftops if he wants. But only if he doesn't so anything stupid like this again.

I shut my eyes and lean further into Cymeit's warmth but all I can see is blue and gold eyes and I want to fucking scream. Silas Ashryver Whitethorn Galanthynius, I'm going to kill you.

For a moment I'm about to swing onto Cymeit's back and ride through the skies. Just so I can make sure he's safe. Just make sure he's okay. Then I hear a scream. It's a horrifying scream, painted in fear and panic. I'm up instantly and I carefully slide down to the edge of the roof, peering over but the fog's too thick for me to see anything. 

"Fuck," I murmur before I click my tongue - me and Cymeit's signal. He's at my side quickly and doesn't even jolt as I pull myself onto his back. Abraxos follows us, teeth bared and eyes alight. I don't have to tell them where to go, they just spreads their wings, leap into the sky and head towards where we heard the scream.

*

We drop down into the massive walled gardens at the back of the palace. I slide off of Cymeit's back and lightly place my hand on his neck as the three of us look down at the girl on the ground. I slowly stalk towards her, dropping my hand from Cymeit as I touch the hilt of the dagger strapped against my side. I'm fucking praying that I don't have to fight. One, because I'm a shit fighter. Two, I'm slightly drunk and three, I'm tired and my heart hurts and I can't be fucked with this shit.

I hold my breath as I drop lower, inching towards the girl. I pull the dagger out, turning it in my fingers as I pull the girl over so I can look at her. She's only about sixteen, a year younger than me. She's wearing a handmaiden's uniform and her hair's pinned back although strands of blonde are falling out. She's definitely fae, evident from the pointed ears and slender features. I sigh as my eyes travel down to her torso, and down to the massive gash that seeping blood. Her torso's been slit right down the middle. I bend down closer, dropping to my knees as I inspect the massive slit. Abraxos and Cymeit pad closer to me, Abraxos whimpering slightly as he looks at the dead girl. 

I bite my lip as I look into the gash, my fingers covered in wet blood as I touch the flaps of ripped skin. "Fuck," I breathe. Her heart's gone. I blink before I realise what might've happened. Its as if someone, or something, has ripped through her chest with claws and grabbed her heart and pulled it out.

My eyes dart up as footsteps sound. Cymeit snarls and bares his teeth as Abraxos pushes me behind him with his wing. I roll my eyes as Abraxos tries to protect me. Me and Cymeit bonded, but we bonded because we're both cold, brutal and monsters. Me and Abraxos bonded because he's known me since I was born and the old wyvern took it upon himself to protect me.

I dart under Abraxos' wing and twist the knife in my hand as Eva, Ingrid, Rhydian and Evelyn appear. No one says anything for a moment, they just stand there for a moment, looking from me to the dead girl. They only move when Evelyn turns and crouches down to retch her guts up. First dead body she's seen, I guess.

" _Seonaith._ _Havilliard_ ," Rhydian says, his tone cold, as he walks towards me. I arch an eyebrow and only then realise what they might be thinking.

"Oh," I say, rolling my eyes. "You think _I_  killed her." I sigh and fold my arms. "I'm fucking angry. But I'm not that pissed, Rhydian Ashryver." Rhydian glares at me as I smirk at him. Rhydian's never liked me, because he thinks he's some sort of loyal prince and he thinks I'm the complete opposite. Which to be fair, I am. 

"You're drunk," Ingrid hisses as she comes up beside me and tugs on my arm, snatching the dagger from my hand. 

"Extremely," I nod as I grab the knife back. "But I still have a brain. And I haven't killed anyone." We both look back down at the girl and Ingrid shudders. 

"Then who has?" she whispers.

*

I'm lounging on Silas' throne in the grand hall as the rest of them talk. His smell's embedded in this chair. Like sage, lavender and almond. I run my fingers down the soft, dark green velvet as my heart aches. My eyes flutter shut and I imagine waves of silver and constellations of freckles and lean chests and square jaws and feral smiles and crooked noses and-

"Seonaith!" 

I open my eyes as I roll my head to look at the four of them. They're sitting in a fucking circle and talking, like they're planning a fucking battle. I don't reply to Eva, I just arch an eyebrow as I try and conceal any lingering pain and longing on my face. "Get off the fucking chair and _help us_ ," Eva hisses.

"I like the _chair_ ," I shrug, throwing my legs over the armrests before I rake my fingers through my hair. "Although it might be a bit much," I comment as I gesture to the emeralds embedded into the pine wood. "Not very...Silas," I murmur before I sigh and slide off of the chair and make my way towards them.

"I think we should tell someone," Evelyn says as I stand behind Ingrid. I'll listen, but I'm not fucking sitting down with them like we're some sort of fucking club. 

"Don't be fucking dense, Evelyn," I shake my head. "We're not telling anyone." They all just blankly stare at me. "Because we're going to figure out what's happening," I pause as I pull my dagger from it's place and twirl it in my fingers. "And then when we find out who's doing this. We're going to end them," I say as I spin around and suddenly throw the dagger. It whisks through the air gracefully before it lands right in the middle of the biggest emerald in Silas' throne, causing it to crack and splinter. "Without the help of your fucking parents."


	8. The Smallest Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is this some sort of intervention?"

Avine

I'm going to kill him.

I'm going to fucking murder Aran Archeron. Stupid, idiotic, cruel bastard.

I tense as he walks down the stairs, Irin's arm slung over his. She's adoring a brutal smirk and he's displaying a feral grin. I tighten my fists as Wil places a tentative hand on my shoulder. I don't now if he's doing it because he thinks I might run towards them both and strangle Aran with my bare hands or if he's just shocked himself.

Everyone in the room watches in silence as they slowly walk down the stairs and I can practically feel the anger flooding out of me, dripping down my neck, until the reach the bottom and Aran clears his throat. "I don't recall asking anyone to stop. You didn't need to halt the celebration purely for us." When he finishes speaking, Irin's smirk morphs into something even more evil and cruel; her white teeth exposed and her red lips pursed. I'm going to fucking kill him.

The band tentatively starts playing again, the violins' shaking and the piano hesitating until everyone slowly starts to talk again. My eyes slide to Feyre and Rhys, who are standing next to Nesta and Cassian. Feyre's lips are quivering and Cassian's face is a cast of disappointment, but Nesta and Rhys are angry. Furious. Rhys' jaw is clenched and his eyes are narrowed. He makes to take a step froward, but Feyre grabs his arm and shakes her head. 

"What the actual _fuck_?" Wil whispers as he lets go of my shoulder and scratches his neck. 

"How could he do this?" I say again, looking to Arein. Her beautiful face is a cast of pure and true rage. Her arms are crossed and I can see her nails digging into her pale skin. 

"I don't know," she admits, through gritted teeth. "But I'm going to go and find out." She makes to walk towards Aran and Irin, who are standing at the bottom of the stairs, neither of them talking. Irin's arm is still draped over Aran's and it makes my heart clench. Everan catches Arein's shoulder before she can though and shakes his head. "Let go, Everan," she hisses and Everan's hand is instantly off of his mate. 

"Wait," he says softly as he gestures to Aran. "Look carefully. She's digging into his arm. And he's not really smiling. He's putting it on." The four of us turn, our eyes latching on to Aran. My throat bobs when I realise Everan's right. Aran's shaking, I realise as I tendril of uncertainty unfurls in my gut.

"Something's wrong," Wil says as he rakes a hand through his hair. "Something has to be wrong." I just nod in return, gulping as I watch Irin Maura whisper something into Aran's ear. And whatever she whispers must be bad, very fucking bad, because it makes my cousin - the Heir of Darkness- pale.

*

It takes us half an hour to get Aran on his own. I stay in the shadows, using the small amount of magic I got from Father to hide myself, and wait until Irin slips off to grab my cousin. He's talking to Wil's brother, Dwyatt, when I wrap my hand around his arm and winnow us away.

I thankfully manage to get us up the the top balcony of the House of Wind without my magic fading. When I feel the wooden floor beneath my feet, I let go of Aran. He stumbles as he runs a hand down his face. "What-" he starts, but I cut him off by punching him in the gut. He grunts and doubles over, hugging himself as he groans. "Avie," he starts as he looks up at me, squinting. "What the _fuck_?"

"You're a fucking prick, Aran," I hiss, pulling back my hand for another punch when someone behind me grabs it. 

"Avie," Wil says, calmly, before he lets go of me. I let my arm fall to my side but I keep my fists tightened and my eyes narrowed at my cousin. "Aran," he says, folding his arms as he comes up beside me. His wings are out now, and they''re folded tight beside him.

"Is this some sort of _intervention_?" Aran hisses as he straightens. 

"No," Wil says, tilting his head. "We just want to know why you invited Irin Maura to Starfall." Aran doesn't say anything, just pushes his tongue into his cheek as he lowers his brows. "You were also late," Wil adds, a small grin on his face. "Your mother was pissed."

"Although I'm sure this has upset her a lot fucking more," I add in through gritted teeth. At the mention of his mother, Aran's face falls slightly and his throat bobs. "Just tell us what's going on, cousin." Aran doesn't speak for a while, so the only sound is the monstrous wind as it incircles us. It's blowing my hair into my face and my long skirts are dancing around my legs. I don't take my eyes off of Aran. He looks away sheepishly as he plays with the buttons on his jacket. "Where's Everan and Arein?" he asks, still not looking at us. 

"Downstairs," Wil answers, shrugging. "Thought you'd be more likely to talk if it's just us three." Aran nods, before he sighs and walks to the edge of the balcony, leaning on the stone railings. Me and Wil stay where we are. I look over at Wil and he shrugs at me, the wind shattering against his wings.

"Maybe I just like Irin," Aran says quietly, looking down at his court. 

" _Maybe_ ," I say, walking up beside him as I lay my hand out on the stone. It's freezing and I shudder before I fold my wings around me in a desperate attempt for shelter. "But I highly doubt it, Aran," I add in a softer tone. "You can tell us what it is. You know that." He nods after a moment and exhales, his breath turning to mist in the cold air. 

"I didn't invite her," he whispers. "I was on my way here, flying, when I hear something. A scream. So, I landed in theses woods but I couldn't find anyone. I was about to leave when I saw this strange...markings carved into the dirt. It looked like someone had done it with a knife or something and I was standing there and trying to figure out what they were when they started to glow."

"Glow?" I interrupt, eyebrow arched. "Glow how?"

"Blue," Aran replies, still not looking at either of us. "They were glowing blue, and then they just sort of stopped. I was about to leave and go get Father, when Irin stepped out from behind a tree. She was wearing a dress, but it looked like it had been burned off of her. I asked her what she was doing but she wouldn't tell me." When he doesn't say anything else, I grab his arm. 

"And?" I question him, gripping his arm.

"And nothing. She said she was injured. Begged me to help." He looks at me and at seeing my face, frowns. "I had to, Avie. She looked like she was dying. So, I brought her here." He shrugs off my arm and takes a step back. "I can handle it, okay? Stay out of it," he says to me and Wil, his deadly blue eyes narrowed. He rolls back his shoulders before he winnows away.

"Where do you think he went?" Wil asks after a moment of silence. 

"Don't know," I admit as Wil comes up beside me. We both look out to the sky as the spirits start to fall. Less and less fall each year and soon, we'll see the last spirit to fall ever. Wil sighs as we watch the glowing sparkles shoot across the otherwise featureless canvas of black. The spirits twirl in and out of each other, as if they're dancing, revelling in the time they have as they shoot across the Night Court. "He had a tattoo," I whisper as my eyes follow a particularly small spirit, it's blue trail of sparkles slight and almost invisible against all the other bright stars. "It was peeking up from his collar," I explain when Wil looks down at me.

"He lied to us," he breathes quietly, the wind carrying his words away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make me happy!
> 
> I'm itlieswheniamwithyou on Tumblr if you wanna go follow me. I'm gonna start posting updates and sneak peeks on there (still gonna post here too though) although I'm fairly new to Tumblr so you might have to bare with me lol
> 
> https://itlieswheniamwithyou.tumblr.com


	9. Black Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I won't. I can help. I'm a healer. What if you find Silas and he's injured, or worse?

Ingrid

I lean against the iron railing of my balcony as I watch the fae of Orynth below. It's late, and the sky above is dark but the city is bright. I miss the stars. At home, you can always see the stars, every night. But here, the bright light from Orynth illuminates the dark sky. I sigh as I hold my head in my hands. My mind keeps drifting to the dead girl. I can't scrape the image of her bloodied corpse out of my mind. Seonaith thinks we can deal with it ourselves. But Seonaith is...well, Seonaith's Seonaith. I think he drinks blood. 

I look up as a flash of bright blue catches my eyes. There's a shooting star. It's blue and seems to be sparkling as it turns in and out of itself, shooting quickly through the featureless sky. I've never seen a star like that. 

I don't know why, but the mere sight of it fills me with hope. My lips turn up as I watch the star tumble though the sky, slowly fading as it falters. Maybe it's not a star at all, I think as it disappears, the only sign it was ever there, a trail of blue sparkles. Maybe its something else.

*

 

“Get on the fucking horse, Witch,” Eva rolls her eyes exasperatedly. Seonaith just arches his eyebrow and tilts his head, smirking that aggravating smile that I know drives Eva crazy. “You can’t take the beast,” she says, eyeing Cymeit as the wyvren stands behind Seonaith, looking pretty bored, “on a cross country horse track.”

“Why not?” Seonaith asks, crossing his arms. “Cymeit could outrun any of your shitty horses, Princess,” he adds but his heart isn’t in the jab. His heart’s not been in anything but drinking since Silas left. Actually, by the way he's swaying slightly, he might be a little drunk right now. He looks like shit. He has bags under his golden eyes and white stubble is growing on his jaw. He's lost weight, and his clothes are almost hanging off of him. Whenever he smirks, it's not painted in sarcasm or glee but rather longing. 

“Please get on the horse,” I say, borderline begging, before Eva can snipe at him. “Let’s try and have a nice ride. _Please_ ,” I add when Seonaith sighs. I smile as he pulls himself onto the horse next to me. He doesn’t wait for us, just instantly stars riding off, leaving us behind in the stables. “He’s upset,” I breathe to Eva as my horse whimpers. 

“I know,” she nods, pushing her tongue into her cheek. She's frowning, and it contrasts against her beauty. “But I don’t know what we can do. I guess just wait for my brother to return." She pauses as she brushes her hand through her mare's hair. "He should be home by tonight anyway." I’m about to reply, even though I don’t know what to do either, when Seonaith calls over to us from outside, his hands tightened on the reins. “Hurry the fuck up.”

Eva snorts before she kicks her horse and starts galloping after him, her hair whipping behind her. "C'mon Ingrid," she calls. I'm about to chase after the two of them when a messenger boy runs into the stables, panting desperately. He makes to run out the door, a letter gripped in his hand, but I call out to him. "Are you okay?" I ask gently as I drop from the horse, holding on to the reins as my hand lingers on the horse's white neck. 

"Yes, m'lady," he nods. "I just have to get this letter, to the uh...the King and the Queen, Lady Ingrid."

"I can take it to them if you want," I offer. Judging by the way he's panting, it seems like he's come a long way. "I don't mind," I add when he looks at me warily, arching an eyebrow. 

"Umm...okay," he agrees tentatively as he tuck a strand of blonde hair behind his pointed ear. "Thank you Lady Ingrid," he nods to me before he walks off. I run my fingers over the lettering on the envelope. I've seen it before I think, but I can't remember where. I'm about to slide it into my pocket when a black cat walks into the stables. It leaps up onto a beam beside my head before it lies down, it's tail swaying slightly.

"Hello, Evelyn," I smile softly before she turns back into her human form. I throw her my cape and she wraps it around herself, a grateful smile on her face. 

"What you got there?" she asks, sniffing as she shoulders the cloak.

"A message for the Queen and King," I reply, holding out the letter. "I offered to take it to them," I explain when she cocks her head at me.

"Oh, I can do it. I'm heading up to the palace now." I thank her before I hand her the letter. "This is Lorcan's writing," she says, looking up at me with wide eyes. I open my mouth to respond, but Evelyn's already ripping open the letter. 

"Eve!" I exclaim but she's already reading. Her eyes scan the letter quickly and as she reads on she frowns. Evelyn doesn't look up until she's finished and even then, she doesn't speak, just passes me the letter. As I read the letter, I realise why it only took Evelyn two seconds to read - it's only three sentences long.

_Rowan and Aelin,_

_The fae in Perranth are losing their magic. I'm coming to Orynth. I'll be there in a day._

_Lorcan._

I arch an eyebrow as I meet Evelyn's eye. "But if Lorcan's coming here alone..." I trail off, not wanting to say it. Evelyn shudders before she looks away. I follow her eye line to see Seonaith and Eva riding outside. They're both laughing as their horses gallop, Seonaith's head back as he laughs, his hands tightened on the reins. He looks happy - and it's the first time he's smiled in four days. 

"Then Silas never arrived at Perranth."

*

"Seonaith, this is insane!" Eva squeals as we follow him to the roof. "Father's on his way home, and then he'll go find Silas."

"Your parents and my father are in Rifthold," he says to us both as he runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As soon as Seonaith found out about the letter, he was racing towards his wyvern, ready to leap into the sky and chase Silas through heaven and hell. "By the time they get here, and then go find him, Silas could already be dead," Seonaith shouts as all three of us run up the iron stairs towards the palace's roof. " _Fuck_ , he could be dead _now_ , Eva!"

All three of us reach the roof at the same time and as soon as I'm out of the shelter of the turret, I hiss against the icy wind. Seonaith makes to plough against the wind, towards where Cymeit is waiting, as if he knew something was happening. He snarls when Eva grabs his wrist and goes to pull away but Eva holds on tight. "He's my brother, Seonaith. He's my fucking _brother_! I'm upset and scared and terrified too. You're not the only one who loves him, Seonaith. But you don't see me doing stupid shit like this. You're not the only one scared for him, okay?" Seonaith's face softens slightly and he nods, even though his jaw is clenched. "I know you love him, Eva," he breathes. "But I'm not going to leave him out there alone," he says gently before he pulls his arm away and continues towards Cymeit. Abraxos is here too, and he's watching the three of us warily, as if he can sense the tension and fear lingering in all of us.

Eva snarls before she starts to follow him again. I sigh, I just managed to get my breath back, before I chase after the two of them. "Fine. Fine!" Eva hides. "Then I'm coming with you, you fucking idiot," she growls before she drops her arm to her side, her blonde hair swaying in the wind. I slowly walk up beside her and link my hand through hers and squeeze it. Just to let her know I'm here. She squeezes my hand back.

Seonaith stops in his tracks. He doesn't turn full around to face us, but he turns his head enough so we can see him nod. "Fine," he sighs, scratching his jaw as he whistles Cymeit over to him. He elegantly pulls himself up onto the wyvern, his red cloak like falling blood against Cymeit's pale scales. "You can take Abraxos," he says before he calls his mother's wyvern over by clicking his tongue. Eva slowly approaches the black wyvern, who lowers his head to allow her to climb on. She tentatively climbs up, less gracefully than Seonaith did, but she gets up anyway. 

"I'll come too," I say as I watch Seonaith murmur to Cymeit as Eva gingerly pats Abraxos. They both pause to look at me and arch their eyebrows. 

"No, Ingrid," Eva says softly. "I think it's probably best if you stay here, with Evelyn and Rhydian. Wait until our parents arrive back." She's saying it gently but it makes me feel like a child.

"What, why?" I ask sharply, folding my arms. "I'm not completely useless," I snipe back, hoping that I don't look like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Yes," Seonaith hisses, aggravation painting his voice, "But you might slow us down, Ingrid." I frown and shake my head.

"I won't. I can help. I'm a healer. What if you find Silas and he's injured, or worse?" I ask. Seonaith's throat bobs and he shuts his eyes lightly for a second, obviously imagining Silas in the worst possible condition. He doesn't open his eyes and he doesn't say anything, but he gestures towards Eva and Abraxos. I smile as I run towards them both, and thank Eva as she helps me up. We both sit there silently before Seonaith opens his eyes and sighs, shaking his eyes, the fear on his face instantly replaced with pure determination. He lightly kicks Cymeit and the grey wyvern is instantly running towards the edge of the palace. I swear under my breath as Abraxos follows, before I wrap my arms tight around Eva's waist. "Fuck, Seonaith!" Eva squeals as she grabs onto Abraxos as we race towards the edge. "I can't ride a fucking wyvern!" She screams against the brutal wind.

"It's fine," Seonaith calls back. "Let Abraxos handle it." He doesn't sound very convincing, I think to myself, before my thoughts are cut off by us leaping into the air. Me and Eva both scream and I squeeze my eyes shut tight as we fly through the skies. I only open them when the wind isn't as hard and Eva's stopped screaming. I let myself breathe as I take in the clouds and the blueness of the sky and the rolling green beneath us. "We'll find him," I say aloud as we catch up to Seonaith and Cymeit, but I don't really know who I'm saying it to; me, the friend left behind, Eva, the abandoned sister or Seonaith, the already grieving lover.

 


	10. A Permanent Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I didn't take you for one to go back on a bargain."

Aran

_The scream is deafning. I can hear it from the sky. I slow down and hover in the air for a moment, my wings softly flapping behind me. I look down below me, scanning the pine trees as I listen out for another scream. But it never comes. I drop down quickly, landing amongst the trees and bushes. I tentatively starts walking silently through the woods, always listening. I keep walking and don't even notice the marks until I_ _almost trip over one. I bend down and run my fingers over the carvings. I recognise them, I think, but I can't remember where from. I crumble the dirt they've been carved into in my fingers. It's just dirt. No magic. I straighten up and run my fingers through my hair before I get ready to shoot back up into the sky when a soft glow catches the corner of my eye. I turn back and my breathing hitches as I watch the carvings glow brighter and brighter, causing the trees surrounding me to cast blue shadows on the ground. My throat bobs and I take a step back, ready to leave, when Irin Muara steps out from a tree. Her clothes are practically hanging off of her and her fingers are blackened, but the first thing I notice is the dagger curled in her left hand. The dagger covered in dry dart. Her black eyes leap to the symbols in the ground and then up to me, standing on top of them. "Move," she hisses, her voice scratchy and cruel as she pushes me off of the carvings. She snarls as their bright blue glow starts to dull. "What did you do?" I ask as she pushes against my chest. "What have you done, Irin?" I ask. She shakes her head. "Tell me," I demand, holding her shoulders. She narrows her black eyes and for a moment I think she forgets she's meant to be beautiful and regal and she looks like a cruel witch. "No," she snarls, her throat bobbing. "I'll tell you this heir, your court won't see another Starfall. It'll be burned to the ground before then." I growl and pull the dagger from my side and it's instantly at her neck. "Tell me what you did, Irin," I say through gritted teeth. She just smirks cruelly as she taps my neck. "My knowledge," she purrs. "In exchange for protection and power." I narrow my eyes. "No," I shrug. Does she really think I'd fall for that? "Are you sure, heir?" she asks, lips in a twisted smirk. "All I want is your protection and a_ promotion _, as such." When I don't reply, she continues. "Aran," she whispers in my ear. I dig the knife in a bit deeper and she growls. "You need this information." At that I slowly nod and watch in frustration as black ink slowly wanders its way up my chest and up my neck. "Deal," she breathes as I stop the dagger. "Deal."_

*

I winnow back to the grand hall, my stomach clenching as I land at the bottom of the stairs. My eyes instantly latch onto Mother's and even from here, I can see the hurt and disappointment in her grey eyes - in my eyes. She smiles softly at me from across the hall. She's next to Father, who's talking to the violinist of the band. It looks like people are starting to filter out now, probably to go join the festive street parties in the city. Mother tilts her head, and keeps smiling, but I can see that she's sad. It makes my heart squeeze with guilt.

I turn away, blinking, and come face to face with Irin. "Hello, Aran," she purrs as she wraps her arm around mine. Her dress is made of almost just pure white lace, highlighting her pale skin. "Where did you disappear off to?" I don't answer, just clench my jaw and silently let her lead me into a empty corridor. I stiffen when the door closes behind us and she pushes me against it, my back hitting the wood. "We don't want you breaking our little promise, now do we?" She grins as she tilts her head and taps her fingers against my jaw. 

"No," I snarl. I move my jaw, but her long nails just dig in harder. "We wouldn't." She lets go, but she's still smirking as she drops her hand onto my shoulder. It feels wrong. Feels so wrong to have her touching me. I go to move, put her hand's pushing into my skin hard.

"I'd much rather stay with you," she smirks, running her tongue over her teeth. Irin's beautiful, no doubt about that, but she's pure evil. She revels in the pain of others and will step over how many bodies she has to to gain some power.

"Shame," I shrug. "I'd rather you fucked off and left my court for good." She laughs before her slender fingers trail down my neck and she pulls my shirt slightly open to expose my neck.

"Looks like that's not going to happen, Heir." She smiles to herself as she traces the swirling black ink. "I didn't take you for one to go back on a bargain."  She pauses before she shrugs and looks up, her dark eyes meeting mine. "Not that you're able to go back on this one."

I let my own eyes drop to my chest and disgust unfurls in my gut as I watch her fingers on the tattoo. A permanent mark to always remind me of our bargain. Her knowledge in exchange for protection and power. "I've given you what you want, Irin. Now you can leave me alone," I hiss as I shove her hand off of my chest but she's quicker and grabs my wrist in her own hand, biting her lip.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other a lot more often, Aran." She smiles softly, but her black eyes are painted in cruelty and amusement, as if I'm a dog she's enjoying kicking. I'm about to snarl at her and snatch my hand away when there's a cough from the end of the corridor. We both turn our heads to see my mother standing there, arms folded, and looking pretty fucking pissed. "Aran. We're leaving now," she says, ignoring Irin, who still hasn't let go of my hand. I nod and make to leave when Irin speaks. 

"Is the party already over, Feyre?" she asks, smiling prettily as she curls a strand of red hair around her finger. I snarl at Irin. She purposely used Mother's first name, instead of her title - as a sign of pure disrespect. I want to kill her. Fuck the bargain, maybe I can kill her. But Mother's calling my name so I narrow my eyes at Irin as I walk away, jaw clenched and teeth gritted. "Till next time, _Heir of Darkness_ ," Irin calls after me, and I can hear the smirk in her voice.

 * 

"What the hell, Aran!" Nox is already shouting as soon as we're all inside the manor house. I just shrug at him as I watch Mother silently narrow her eyes at Nox - my younger brother doesn't catch it. "Why are you such a fucking _prick_?" he shouts, punching my shoulder as I start to walk away, rolling my eyes.

"Nox!" Mother shouts. "Language, _please_ , not in front of your sister." He scowls, but shuts his mouth anyway. "Come on Lilith, let's get ready for bed," Mother says as Lilith pulls her boots off. Lilith nods but before she follows Mother, she wraps her arms around me first. I lift her up by the waist and spin my little sister around as she giggles, her gold hair flying. Lilith looks exactly like Aunt Morrigan. She also acts exactly like Morrigan; same saunter, same sass and same unfaltering confidence. I drop Lilith back down  and she kisses Father on the cheek before she runs back to Mother and they walk up the stairs together, Lilith almost slipping on her long red dress.

Then as soon as they're both gone, Nox stares at me, eyes narrowed and painted in anger. My little brother never did know how to control his anger. "What's happening, Aran?" Father asks before Nox can scream at me again. Nox's scowling at me, but Father's just looking at me like he expects me to tell him something important.

"Nothing," I shrug, trying to school my face into a cast of boredom. I rake my fingers through my hair as I arch and eyebrow at Nox who sighs and fold his arms.

"Then why the hell were you with. _Irin. Muara_?" Nox hisses, his fists tightened. I shrug again before I roll my eyes. I can feel the frustration radiating from him.

"I don't see why it's any of your business, frankly," I sneer. "I don't care who you went to the party with, little brother." Nox looks like he wants to punch me, but Father steps in-between of us and looks at me, his brows arched. 

"What's happening, Aran?" Father asks him again, his face serious. For a moment, I consider telling him, but I can't. This is my problem. 

"Nothing!" I shake my head before I pull my coat off and throw it at the table in the hall. "I'm going to bed," I state before I run up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I hear Nox and Father arguing in the hall as I reach the landing but I ignore them as I head to the library, not my room. I quietly open the door and slip in, letting the door lock behind me. I run my fingers over the books in the shelves as I scan for the word I'm looking for. The word Irin told me tonight. 

_Wrydmarks._


	11. Marigold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We'll bring him home."

Rhydian

I find Evelyn sitting in the library on a window seat, her knees to her chest as she flicks through a book. I cock my head as I watch her. She's looking at the faded pages, but she's looking out of the window. She's wearing black trousers and a cropped top and she's huddled into a massive fur coat, even though it's fairly warm outside. 

"What are you doing?" She whips her head to me as I walk towards her, my steps against the floorboards the only sound. 

"Reading," she shrugs, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her pointed ear. "I think we should switch up the colour," she says as I sit down next to her, back against the wall. I push open the window and listen to the birds and the fae in the city below.

I snort as I watch Evelyn's long hair slowly morph into red. She arches an eyebrow as she tugs at the dark red strand. "Clashes with our eyes," I point out. Evelyn smirks as I change my own hair to blue, the same shade as the circle of blue in our Ashryver eyes. 

"I like it," she nods before she matches her own hair to mine. "Blue it is," she murmurs before she turns back to her book, her fingers tracing the pages. I try and look at what she's reading but the font's too small. "I still think we should tell Mother and Father," she says suddenly, shutting the book with a thud. I jolt back. "We found a _dead_ body, Rhydian," she says through gritted teeth in answer to me arching my eyebrow.

"I am well aware, Eve," I say, tilting my head to look out the window. Right at the spot where we found that dead fucking body. And right where we buried her. Somehow, I was the one tasked with burying the poor girl with Seonaith Havilliard. The fucking prick. He didn't even help me, just let his fucking wyvern dig the pit as he watched me dig at it with my paws in my cougar form. And the witch didn't even blink when the beast savagely pushed the corpse into the pit, just tilted his head and watched me, his eyes dancing as if he was daring me to do something. But I didn't. I just left and padded back to the palace. Letting him and his beast finish the job.

I still can't get the image of Seonaith Havilland standing over the dead girl, dagger in his bloodied hands, his wyverns behind him. 

"Why are you sitting here alone?" I ask, trying to change the subject as I nudge her knee with my foot. "I thought you were going to go riding." She pushes her tongue into her cheek before she replies after a moment.

"A note came when I was in the stables," she says gingerly, shaking her blue hair over her shoulders. "For the Queen and King. But me and Ingrid read it," she adds unabashedly. 

"And?" I ask when she doesn't expand. "What did the note say?" She doesn't respond, just tentatively pulls out a folded piece of paper from her coat and passes it to me. 

"Fuck," I murmur after I've read the note. 

"They've gone after him," Evelyn murmurs. I snap my head up and look up at my twin with widened eyes.

"What?" I hiss, dropping the note on the cushion between us. " _What_?"  

"The three of them have gone to find Silas," she says quietly as she meets my eyes. 

"How?" I ask ludicrously as I jump to my feet. "We've got to tell someone."

"They took the wyverns," Eve explains as she scrambles off the seat and grabs my arm. "And we can't, I told Ingrid we wouldn't. Anyway..." she trails off.

" _What_?" I shrug, trying to keep my tone from angry.

"Lorcan's just arrived," she says before she gestures towards the window. We both walk over and I hold my breath as we watch in silence, Lord Lorcan Lochan ride towards the castle, black hair flipping behind him. The fae blessed by death himself. I gulp and grab Eve's hand and instinctively we both go to turn when a sharp voice calls behind us.

"Eve. Rhydian."

We turn slowly and grimace when we come face to face with our father. "You two are coming with me," he frowns as he folds his arms and narrows his eyes at us.

 

*

 

I fold my arms as Father and Aunt Aelin scan me and Eva in front of them. "Nice hair," Aelin finally smirks. "Very fashionable."

"Where have they gone?" Father cuts in, shooting Aelin a glance. 

"To find Silas," I say before Eve can elbow me. "They left a couple of hours ago, on the wyverns."

"Shit," Father swears as Aelin winces. That's when I realise. They don't know about the note yet. They don't know about Silas.

"Because a note came for you saying that Lorcan was on his way, and we realised that that means Silas never got to them and so Ingrid told Seonaith and he started panicking and-" I kick Eve and she clamps her mouth shut.

"We're sorry, we should've told you as soon as we realised," I say, biting my lip. 

"It's done now," Aelin whispers, holding her head in her hands. " _Silas_ ," she whispers as Father wraps her in a hug. She doesn't hug him back, just trembles. "My little boy. What if we don't...what if he never comes home, Aedion?"

"He will," Father says, holding her tighter. "They'll find him, Aelin. They've got Cymeit and Abraxos and the three of them are capable. And as soon as Rowan gets home with Manon and Chaol we'll go get him. We'll bring him home." Aelin doesn't reply, but my back straightens as I watch her tears fall onto Father. Then that's when it hits me. She might not get to see her son again. My heart squeezes and I grab Evelyn's hand. She doesn't say anything or move, just squeezes my hand. And it's enough.

 

Ingrid

I stiffen as I watch Seonaith grab at his white hair. "We've been looking for fucking hours!" he barks, his voice hoarse. "And we still can't fucking find him." I want to console him, but I know that's never an option for Seonaith, let alone now.

"Maybe we should move on," Eva volunteers, placing a light hand on his shoulder. "Search somewhere else?" Eva's eyes are lined with tears, but Seonaith doesn't seem to notice. I know that this is tearing Seonaith up, it's hurting _me_. But Silas is Eva's sister, and Seonaith is acting like she's a stranger. Seonaith isn't a good person but he isn't evil, not full of spite or hate. He's just Seonaith, and really, I don't think anyone is purely _good_. But there's one thing Seonaith's being right now and that's selfish. 

Seonaith snarls as he pushes her hand off. "No. He's here! I can smell him. Like almonds and fucking sage. And blood." He pinches his nose before he makes a sort of strangled whimpering noise and kicks the dry dirt. 

"You having a tantrum sin't going to help us, Seonaith," I hiss as I grab his hands and pull them away from his face. "You can help us by using his scent, but not if you're going to act like this the whole time. Okay?" I ask. I expected Seonaith to be angry with me, or at least pissed off, but he just looks surprised. So does Eva. I smile softly at her before I look back at Seonaith. "So concentrate and try and find Silas so we can bring him home."

Seonaith just nods weakly before he blinks a couple of times and runs his hand down the side of his face before he shuts his eyes softly. He stands still for a few moments, before he starts to walk slowly. Cymeit and Abraxos walk closely behind him and me and Eva start to follow. We landed on a path about two hours ago because Seonaith spotted something. It was a piece of fabric from Silas' cape. And it had blood on it. We wandered off into the woods next to the path after searching for a while but we still haven't found anything.

As we follow Seonaith, I get this sinking feeling in my stomach. I try and distract myself by scanning all the plants we pass and try and recall what they could be used for in healing. Thistle, indigestion. Turmeric, monthly cycles. Marigold, soothing skin. Horsetail, stop bleeding.

I manage to keep the dark feeling away until Seonaith suddenly swears colourfully. Me and Eva walk past the wyverns and as soon as I see what Seonaith sees I almost throw up.

We're in a clearing and Silas is lying down next to a tree, half his body submerged in a pond, and he's covered in blood. It looks like someone threw a pot of red paint all over him. It almost doesn't look real. Silas normally looks pale anyway, but right now he's white. My throat bobs as I realise that he might actually be dead. Markings have been chalked around him on the grass and on the the tree he's against. And then I realise that there's markings on him too.

I look away and turn my eye to Eva and Seonaith, who seem to be rooted to the spot. I tell myself to stop it and to move, because this is what I've trained for. This is what I'm good at. This is what I can _do_.

"I saw some Marigold a little bit further back," I tell Eva, who looks at me slowly, skin pale and eyes wide."You need to go get some. Also get some Field Scabious. They're purple. And maybe some Bay laurel if you can find them." She doesn't move. " _Now Eva._ Now!" I yell before I run to Silas, dropping to my knees when I reach him. I manage to pull him out of the water and lie him down flat. My nose crinkles as the smell of metallic blood hits me but I ignore it.

I scan the situation and try and push out other thoughts. He's unconscious, and he has...markings _carved_ into his skin. All over his chest and arms and there's a small one on his cheek. They're not deep thankfully, but I think some might scar. I pull out the material my hair was tied in an dip it in the water quickly before I start trying to clean the blood off of Silas so I can properly see what's happening. 

I'm aware of Seonaith standing behind me but I try and ignore him. When I've got most of the blood and dirt and leaves off of him I curse under my breath. I only ever swear when I'm healing.

"Come on Eva," I murmur as I touch Silas' arm. He's really warm and he's still bleeding for a lot of places. I don't know how much time we have left. How much time he has left. I sigh with relief as he opens his eyes. "Silas," I start. "I need you to-"

But he cuts me off. "Seonaith," he murmurs as he rolls his head. Seonaith is instantly down at my side. 

"I'm here," he breathes, his voice breaking. "I'm here."

"I think I'm...going to die," Silas croaks as he tries to sit up, his arms buckling. I lightly push him back down, shuddering when my fingers trace over the cuts in his arm. That's when I notice that his ring finger on his left hand is missing and blood is pooling out from it. And then I realise that his right arm is angled slightly weirdly and when I touch it, Silas snarls in pain. His shoulder is definitely disconnected. 

"You're not going to die, Silas," Seonaith murmurs as he softly pushes Silas' wet hair back from his forehead. "I promise. I won't let you, okay? You're going to be fine." But I don't think either of them believe it.

Eva appears from the trees, arms laden with the plants I asked for. "Thanks," I quickly say before I turn back to Silas. But the fae prince isn't looking at me. He's just sadly staring at Seonaith who's caressing Silas' cheek with his finger, and obviously desperately trying to ignore the missing finger and the carvings. "Okay Silas," I say, surprised at how sound I calm. "I'm going to need you to try and stay still, because this is going to hurt. Pretty bad, but only for a bit." I think Silas can tell I'm lying. 

I lightly place my both of my hands on his shoulder and breathe. "Hold him down," I tell Seonaith quickly and Silas only has a second to panic before I'm twisting it and he's screaming in pain. I glance at Seonaith and my heart clenches when I see his face. His handsome face is a cast of helplessness and pain. "It's fine," Eva says as she holds her little brother's hand. "You'll be fine." But Silas can't hear her wavering words over the sound of his own screaming. After I've popped his arm back in, I'm instantly grabbing at the plants. Because with every second Silas' getting more and more pale and I can feel his heart rate slowing. 

"Can you bring him back?" Eva asks, as if he's already dead. Don't reply. I don't know. 

Silas' eyes flutter shut but when I start to pour the flowers' juices into his cuts he starts screaming again. And Seonaith's heart breaks again. And Eva's tears start clinging to her jaw. But I just keep working. Cause I have to do this. Because we're not loosing Silas, but even my confidence is faltering that he'll live.


	12. The Dark Twins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the fuck?"
> 
> "Shut up, let me think."
> 
> "What the fuck? Where is he?"
> 
> "I told you, already... he disappeared into gold mist after he touched those things."
> 
> "The fact that you can say that so calmly makes me want to cry."

Ingrid

As I work on Silas, I try and ignore the silent tears sliding down Seonaith’s face. I ignore when Eva drops her brother’s hand to throw her guts up behind a tree. When I’ve done all I can with the flowers and plants, I shuffle back slightly. Silas’ unconscious, but I’m not letting that stop me from trying my hardest to help him. “Okay,” I say. “We’re going to have to get him home,” I say, but I’m speaking to myself. Silas is frozen watching Silas’ unmoving body, his eyes trained on Silas’s hand and the lack of finger. And Eva’s sobbing uncontrollably, mouth over her hand. 

“Please,” I say, my voice hoarse and coming out strained. “We have to get him back.” When Seonaith continues to ignore me and stays next to Silas, running his fingers through Silas’ silver hair, I rush over to Eva, my whole body tired and my heart sore. “Eva, please help me. We’ve got to get him onto Cymeit,” I say, my voice wavering and shaking. “He’s going to die if we leave him," I say bluntly. "He's going to die, Eva." She nods, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

I offer her my hand as I help her up. As she stands, her legs shake and her bottom lip trembles. I squeeze her hand, to let her know I’m here. She doesn’t say anything, and she doesn’t squeeze my hand back, just pulls away, and shakily walks over to Silas and Seonaith. I stand still for a moment as I watch them. Eva's normal bright and laughing face has vanished and a terrified, shaken one has been left in its place. She doesn't look like a Princess, or someone who can control water or is heir to a kingdom. She looks like a child. 

Seonaith's normal cast of indifference and mockery is gone and all that's left is worry and heartbreak. His gold eyes seem empty, his beautiful face looks broken. And Silas... Silas looks like Death's already holding his hand.

My throat bobs as I look at the three of them. “I’m going to go get the wyvrens,” I call to them. “Get him on his feet,” I shout before I run off back towards where we left Cymeit and Abraxos. When I reach them, the wyvrens are lying down, but when they see me they’re instantly up and padding towards me. I’m about to call them over when a faint blue light catches my eye. I take a step towards it, my chest tight, when there’s a scream from behind me. Cymeit and Abraxos are off before I can even turn. I run after them, stumbling over rocks and as the heart splitting screaming continues, the blue light instantly vanishes from my mind.

“What’s happening?” I shout over Silas’ screaming. He’s standing up, leaning against the tree one on side and Eva holding him up on the other while Seonaith plants his hands on Silas’ face, trying to murmur soft and calming words. “He just started screaming,” Eva says, her face white.

“Silas,” I shout as I shove Seonaith out of the way. He goes to hiss at me but I’m already scowling at him. “Hold him up on his other side,” I order and I know its not my tone that causes Seonaith to wrap Silas’ arm around his shoulders. “Silas,” I shout again, but his eyes are squeezed tightly shut and he’s trembling. “Silas,” I hiss, hands on his neck. “What’s wrong, Silas? What _hurts_?”

“Everything,” he groans, his head lolling to the side. “They marked me. It’s...” He trails off, moaning in pain. “They used me for a...spell or something but they... cut my skin to carve..." I try not to cringe at that and just shush him before I signal for Eva and Seonaith to bring him towards the wyverns.

I watch, fists clenched as the three of them hobble towards Cymeit. I can't help but feel helpless as I stand and watch Cymeit bend down before Seonaith lifts Silas up with heartbreaking carefulness. I take a step backwards and let myself sigh out as I lean against a tree. I spread my hands flat out onto the bark, gripping with my nails. I've done all I can. And I truly don't know what's going to happen now. And I can feel the tears that threaten to fall in my eyes. I blink, tearing my gaze away from my friends as I catch glimpse of the blue light again. I turn, and slowly creep towards the glowing light. 

As I walk away, Silas guiltily slips from my mind as I frown at the soft glow. My feet are soft on the grass and I can't even really hear myself breathing. I gulp when I come to a tree with carvings in it just like that are now carved into Silas' skin. I take a step forward, hand out, about to touch the tree when I hear a rustling coming from the trees beside me. I turn and my heart speeds up when I see the branches swaying slightly. "Seonaith?" I whisper, desperately trying to persuade myself it must've been either him or Eva trying to find me. But no one answers.

I flinch when a shadow passes over the trees, bringing my attention back onto the carved tree. What do the symbols mean? Who would carve them into a tree? Who would carve them into someone's skin? I blanch as horrendous thought slam through my mind. I reach out again, but before I touch the tree, I brush against a rose bush. I hiss as I watch a small trickle of blood fall between my fingers. I stare at the dark, thick blood as it taints my skin. "Ingrid!" Someone shouting my name pulls me out of it, and I blink at the tree. I'm about to leave, about to run towards my friends, when a flash of lights catches my eye. I turn and gasp lightly as I watch dark mist come from the carvings. The mist is speckled with bright dots, and it resembles the night sky.

I reach out again, enchanted, towards the mist. It's like the carvings are beckoning me, calling me towards them. And when my bloodied fingers touch the bark, everything goes black.

 

*

"What the fuck?"

" _Shut up_ , let me think."

"What the _fuck_? Where is he?"

"I told you, already... he disappeared into gold mist after he touched those things."

"The fact that you can say that so calmly makes me want to cry."

I groan, before I open my eyes one at a time. I don't have time to panic, or think or speak before a face appears before me. I breathe in sharply, before I sit up straight, my heart beating too fast. I'm in a bed, in a large room with high ceilings. I turn to look out the massive, ceiling to floor windows, but all I can see is a river and a massive garden, fountains and blooming everywhere. I have no idea where I am. I have no idea where Seonaith and Eva are...and Silas. Is he okay? Is he dead?  _Where am I?_

"Hello there," the face purrs. It's a boy. He looks around my age. He's got messy, pitch black hair and beautiful hazel eyes. His square jaw is peppered in small scars and his crooked smirk makes me feel more comfortable than I should. He's wearing a black tunic trimmed with silver that indicates wealth. His arrogant cast of amusement also indicates recklessness. He reminds me of Fenrys. 

Then my eyes fall on the wings on his back, and the point of his ears. And my heart thuds slightly. So he's fae. He's defiantly stronger than me, and he must have magic. So he's potentially dangerous, even with that small smile. "Where am I?" I ask, hating that my voice wavers. 

"Velaris," he cocks his head, like that was a stupid question for me to ask.

My throat bobs. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no idea where I am. Please, I need to get back to my friends. Once of them...he's dying, please, I need to..." as I ramble on, I push myself off of the bed and stand on my shaky legs. It's only then that I realise I'm not wearing my cotton dress anymore and am in a short, white nightdress. My cheeks instantly flush and I wrap my arms around my waist.

"Don't worry, I put you in that." I turn to see a girl that I didn't notice before, sitting on a window seat. She looks like the boy; long black hair that falls down her shoulders, bright and smiling hazel eyes and various scars all over her face and arms. She's also wearing fine clothes; a cropped black top trimmed with silver and a short skirt that flows when she jumps from her seat. "He offered to help, but I didn't let him touch you." When I don't say anything, she smirks. "A thank you would be nice." 

The boy on the bed snorts, biting his bottom lip, before he turns to face me, hazel eyes gleaming. Maybe they're siblings, I think as I look at them both. At both of their pointed ears and massive, dark wings. At their matching dark outfits and regal stances."Are you going to tell us your name?" The boy asks, cocking his head. "And why you appeared in place of our dearest cousin?" I don't reply, just take a step back towards the door. The boy stands, and I try not to let his height intimidate me. Actually, I think, as I watch the girl slink towards me, I should probably be more scared of her. And then she draws a dagger from behind her. My throat bobs and I take another small step back.

"Put it away," the boy hisses, but she just keeps her eyes on me. Like I'm her prey. 

"Where's Aran?" she asks, narrowing her eyes. I don't say anything, just shake my head. I think if I speak I'll either burst into sobs or throw up.

"Look, we really don't want to hurt you." My eyes slide to the boy when he starts speaking. "I never like hurting pretty things," he smiles. A smile really shouldn't correlate with the things he's saying. "But even though my older cousin pisses me off, I'd like him back. Especially cause his mother will skin me if we don't find him. And right now our only lead is you. And I'm not saying you look dangerous behind those freckles," he pauses, sighing, "But I've been tricked by a pretty face before."

I shake my head again, my throat tight. They're going to kill me. They're actually going to kill me. I gasp when my back's pressed against the door, and they both watch me carefully. They may be fae, but I'm fast, I tell myself as my fingers find the knob, concealed by my back. I'm fast, and I'm not going to die. Not here. Not now. Not without knowing if my friends are okay.

"So, if you'd just tell us what you did with our cousin, then you can go. Really it's simple if you just-"

My fingers turn the knob slowly as the boy speaks, my heart rattling against my chest as I quickly pull the door open, my bare feet thudding against the wooden floor-boards as I make towards the grand stairs, taking them two at a time. Shouts follow me, but I ignore them as I reach the bottom of the stairs, my eyes instantly spotting the door. 

I may be a mere mortal - just a human girl. I can't summon tsunamis like Eva or control hurricanes like Silas or freeze people's blood like Seonaith. I can't ride wyverns or use a sword. But I can run. And I can run fast.

I push against the door, letting out a breath of relief when it opens. I squint in the bright light as I run down the streets of the city that I've never heard of. My bare feet scrape against the cobblestones as I run from the two fae chasing me. I'm aware of people watching me as I run, my hair flying behind me. Then their whispers and laughs hush when a man lands in front of me. I go to run past him, speeding up, but somehow I freeze in my tracks. I try to squirm, but I can't move. My hair stays stuck behind me, my feet stay on the stones and my arms stay in the air. 

"Wil. Avie," the man says, looking behind me before his violet eyes land on me. "What is the meaning of this?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I know it's been a while, but I'm back and things are just heating up :)


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